le all around me
evil things crawled, and mocked me in my sorrow. I thought I saw men and
women, long dead, haunting the graves in which other bodies lay, and I
fancied I heard them pleading to God to hasten the resurrection day.
These and many more phantoms appeared to me until, with a cry of
anguish, I rushed back to the kiddleywink again. The night had become
clear, and the moon, which was half full, caused the church-tower and
the Manor House to appear very plainly, and as I lay on the window-seat
I could see both.

Toward morning I began to grow less fearful, although a great pain still
gnawed at my heart. I remember, too, that I was making up my mind that
when daylight came I would seek the priest to whom I had spoken, and
ask him to show me Naomi's grave, when I heard a sobbing wail that
seemed to come from a heart as broken and bleeding as my own.

I started up and listened for some seconds, but all was silent.

"Was I dreaming?" I asked myself, "or are the spirits of the dead come
back?"

Scarcely had the thought passed my mind when I heard another cry, more
piteous, if possible, than the other.

"Jasper, Jasper, my love, Jasper!" I heard. "Can you not deliver me?"

The cry was very real, and it had no suggestion of the grave. It was the
voice of some one living.

"My God!" I cried; "it is Naomi!"

I looked at my watch; it was six o'clock, and thus wanted two hours to
daybreak. Hurriedly I left the inn and went out again. A rimy frost had
come upon every twig and bush and tree, and in the light of the moon the
ice crystals sparkled as though the spirits had scattered myriads of
precious stones everywhere. But I thought not of this. I made my way
toward the spot from which I thought I had heard the sound come, and
then listened intently. All was silent as death.

Near me was a tall tree. I made a leap at its lowest branches, and a few
seconds later was fifteen or twenty feet from the ground. From this
position I saw the whole garden. I looked long and steadily, but could
discern nothing of importance. I continued to strain my ears to listen,
but all was silent save the rippling of the brook that wended its way
down the valley, and which seemed to deride me in my helplessness.

"It was all fancy," I said, bitterly--"all fancy; or perhaps I am mad."

I prepared to get down from the tree when I heard a sound like sobbing
not thirty yards from me.

My heart thumped so loud that I could detect no words,