ommenced making its imprint on the forest trees.
Their buds have already burst, some showing leaves fully expanded,
others of still earlier habit bedecked with blossoms. Birds, too,
awaking from a short winter's silence, pour forth their amorous lays,
filling glade and grove with music, that does not end with the day; for
the mock-bird, taking up the strain, carries it on through the hours of
night; so well counterfeiting the notes of his fellow-songsters, one
might fancy them awake--still singing.

Not so melodious are other voices disturbing the stillness of the
Southern night. Quite the opposite are the croaking of frogs, the
screeching of owls, the jerking call of tree-crickets, and the bellowing
of the alligator. Still, the ear accustomed to such sounds is not
jarred by them. They are but the bass notes, needed to complete the
symphony of Nature's concert.

In the midst of this melange,--the hour, as already stated, midnight--a
man, or something bearing man's semblance, is seen gliding along the
edge of the cypress swamp, not far from the place where Charles Clancy
fell.

After skirting the mud-flat for a time, the figure--whether ghost or
human--turns face toward the tract of lighter woodland, extending
between the thick timber and cleared ground of the plantations.

Having traversed this, the nocturnal wayfarer comes within sight of the
deserted cottage, late occupied by the Clancys.

The moonlight, falling upon his face, shows it to be white. Also, that
his cheeks are pallid, with eyes hollow and sunken, as from sickness--
some malady long-endured, and not yet cured. As he strides over fallen
logs, or climbs fences stretching athwart his course, his tottering step
tells of a frame enfeebled.

When at length clear of the woods, and within sight of the untenanted
dwelling, he stops, and for a time remains contemplating it. That he is
aware of its being unoccupied is evident, from the glance with which he
regards it.

His familiarity with the place is equally evident. On entering the
cottage grounds, which he soon after does, through, some shrubbery at
the back, he takes the path leading up to the house, without appearing
to have any doubt about its being the right one.

For all this he makes approach with caution, looking suspiciously
around--either actually afraid, or not desiring to be observed.

There is little likelihood of his being so. At that hour all in the
settlement should be asleep.