s whole
being, and bathed his body in the sweat of agony, the young man mastered
his horror. He strode towards the phantom; he endured its eyes; he
accosted it with a steady voice; he demanded its purpose and defied its
power.

And then, as a wind from a charnel, was heard its voice. What it said,
what revealed, it is forbidden the lips to repeat, the hand to record.
Nothing save the subtle life that yet animated the frame to which
the inhalations of the elixir had given vigour and energy beyond the
strength of the strongest, could have survived that awful hour. Better
to wake in the catacombs and see the buried rise from their cerements,
and hear the ghouls, in their horrid orgies, amongst the festering
ghastliness of corruption, than to front those features when the veil
was lifted, and listen to that whispered voice!

....

The next day Glyndon fled from the ruined castle. With what hopes of
starry light had he crossed the threshold; with what memories to shudder
evermore at the darkness did he look back at the frown of its time-worn
towers!

CHAPTER 5.II.

Faust: Wohin soll es nun gehm?
Mephist: Wohin es Dir gefallt.
Wir sehn die kleine, dann die grosse Welt.
"Faust."

(Faust: Whither go now!
Mephist: Whither it pleases thee.
We see the small world, then the great.)

Draw your chair to the fireside, brush clean the hearth, and trim the
lights. Oh, home of sleekness, order, substance, comfort! Oh, excellent
thing art thou, Matter of Fact!

It is some time after the date of the last chapter. Here we are, not in
moonlit islands or mouldering castles, but in a room twenty-six feet by
twenty-two,--well carpeted, well cushioned, solid arm-chairs and eight
such bad pictures, in such fine frames, upon the walls! Thomas Mervale,
Esq., merchant, of London, you are an enviable dog!

It was the easiest thing in the world for Mervale, on returning from his
Continental episode of life, to settle down to his desk,--his heart had
been always there. The death of his father gave him, as a birthright,
a high position in a respectable though second-rate firm. To make this
establishment first-rate was an honourable ambition,--it was his! He had
lately married, not entirely for money,--no! he was worldly rather than
mercenary. He had no romantic ideas of love; but he was too sensible
a man not to know that a wife should be a companion,--not merely a
speculation. He did not care fo