, on the silver plate of a door, not
far from the gothic portal of the Swedenborgian church. Near this door
stood a misty figure, whose sad, spectral eyes floated on vacancy, and
whose long, shadowy white hair, lifted like an airy weft in the
streaming wind. That was the ghost! It stood near the door a long time,
without any other than a shuddering motion, as though it felt the
searching blast, which swept furiously from the north up the declivity
of the street, rattling the shutters in its headlong passage. Once or
twice, when a passer-by, muffled warmly from the bitter air, hurried
past, the phantom shrank closer to the wall, till he was gone. Its
vague, mournful face seemed to watch for some one. The twilight
darkened, gradually; but it did not flit away. Patiently it kept its
piteous look fixed in one direction--watching--watching; and, while the
howling wind swept frantically through the chill air, it still seemed to
shudder in the piercing cold.

A light suddenly kindled in an opposite window. As if touched by a gleam
from the lamp, or as if by some subtle interior illumination, the
spectre became faintly luminous, and a thin smile seemed to quiver over
its features. At the same moment, a strong, energetic figure--Dr.
Renton, himself--came in sight, striding down the slope of the pavement
to his own door, his over-coat thrown back, as if the icy air were a
tropical warmth to him, his hat set on the back of his head, and the
loose ends of a 'kerchief about his throat, streaming in the nor'wester.
The wind set up a howl the moment he came in sight, and swept upon him;
and a curious agitation began on the part of the phantom. It glided
rapidly to and fro, and moved in circles, and then, with the same swift,
silent motion, sailed toward him, as if blown thither by the gale. Its
long, thin arms, with something like a pale flame spiring from the tips
of the slender fingers, were stretched out, as in greeting, while the
wan smile played over its face; and when he rushed by, unheedingly, it
made a futile effort to grasp the swinging arms with which he appeared
to buffet back the buffeting gale. Then it glided on by his side,
looking earnestly into his countenance, and moving its pallid lips with
agonized rapidity, as if it said: "Look at me--speak to me--speak to
me--see me!" But he kept his course with unconscious eyes, and a vexed
frown on his bold, white forehead, betokening an irritated mind. The
light that had shone