-it was not pain: it was as if an eternity of woe were stamped
upon its features. It was too dreadful to behold, I would fain have
averted my gaze--my eyes were fascinated--fixed--I could not withdraw
them from the ghastly countenance. I shrank from it, yet stirred not--I
could not move a limb. Noiselessly gliding towards me, the apparition
approached. I could not retreat. It stood obstinately beside me. I
became as one half-dead. The phantom shook its head with the deepest
despair; and as the word 'Return!' sounded hollowly in my ears, it
gradually melted from my view. I cannot tell how I recovered from the
swoon into which I fell, but daybreak saw me on my way to England. I am
here. On that night--at that same hour, my father died."

"It was, after all, then, a supernatural summons that you received?"
said Small.

"Undoubtedly," replied Ranulph.

"Humph!--the coincidence, I own, is sufficiently curious," returned
Small, musingly; "but it would not be difficult, I think, to discover a
satisfactory explanation of the delusion."

"There was no delusion," replied Ranulph, coldly; "the figure was as
palpable as your own. Can I doubt, when I behold this result? Could any
deceit have been practised upon me, at that distance?--the precise time,
moreover, agreeing. Did not the phantom bid me return?--I _have_
returned--he is dead. I have gazed upon a being of another world. To
doubt were impious, after that look."

"Whatever my opinions may be, my dear young friend," returned Small,
gravely, "I will suspend them for the present. You are still greatly
excited. Let me advise you to seek some repose."

"I am easier," replied Ranulph; "but you are right, I will endeavor to
snatch a little rest. Something within tells me all is not yet
accomplished. What remains?--I shudder to think of it. I will rejoin you
at midnight. I shall myself attend the solemnity. Adieu!"

Ranulph quitted the room. Small sighingly shook his head, and having
lighted his pipe, was presently buried in a profundity of smoke and
metaphysical speculation.

_CHAPTER XI_

_LADY ROOKWOOD_

_Fran. de Med._ Your unhappy husband
Is dead.

_Vit. Cor._ Oh, he's a happy husband!
Now he owes nature nothing.

_Mon._ And look upon this creature as his wife.
She comes not like a widow--she comes armed
With scorn and impudence. Is this a mour