h was what his mind was fixed
upon. I was posted on the other side. To say that nothing could come near
without being seen was self-evident. It had been so also on the previous
night. Now, with our three lights in the midst of the darkness, the whole
place seemed illuminated. Dr. Moncrieff's lantern, which was a large one,
without any means of shutting up,--an old-fashioned lantern with a
pierced and ornamental top,--shone steadily, the rays shooting out of it
upward into the gloom. He placed it on the grass, where the middle of the
room, if this had been a room, would have been. The usual effect of the
light streaming out of the door-way was prevented by the illumination
which Simson and I on either side supplied. With these differences,
everything seemed as on the previous night.

And what occurred was exactly the same, with the same air of repetition,
point for point, as I had formerly remarked. I declare that it seemed to
me as if I were pushed against, put aside, by the owner of the voice as
he paced up and down in his trouble,--though these are perfectly futile
words, seeing that the stream of light from my lantern, and that from
Simson's taper, lay broad and clear, without a shadow, without the
smallest break, across the entire breadth of the grass. I had ceased even
to be alarmed, for my part. My heart was rent with pity and
trouble,--pity for the poor suffering human creature that moaned and
pleaded so, and trouble for myself and my boy. God! if I could not find
any help,--and what help could I find?--Roland would die.

We were all perfectly still till the first outburst was exhausted, as I
knew, by experience, it would be. Dr. Moncrieff, to whom it was new, was
quite motionless on the other side of the wall, as we were in our places.
My heart had remained almost at its usual beating during the voice. I was
used to it; it did not rouse all my pulses as it did at first. But just
as it threw itself sobbing at the door (I cannot use other words), there
suddenly came something which sent the blood coursing through my veins,
and my heart into my mouth. It was a voice inside the wall,--the
minister's well-known voice. I would have been prepared for it in any
kind of adjuration, but I was not prepared for what I heard. It came out
with a sort of stammering, as if too much moved for utterance. "Willie,
Willie! Oh, God preserve us! is it you?"

These simple words had an effect upon me that the voice of the
invisible c