in the
narrow apartment in which he stood, he beheld the malignant and
hell-branded visage of Rivers, peering like a dim and baleful light in
advance of his companion, in whose face a partial glimmer of the lamp
revealed a something of reluctance, which rendered it doubtful how far
Munro had in reality gone willingly on the task.

It was, under all the circumstances, a curious survey for the youth. He
was a man of high passions, sudden of action, impetuous and
unhesitating. In a fair field, he would not have been at a loss for a
single moment; but here, the situation was so new, that he was more and
more undetermined in his spirit. He saw them commissioned with his
murder--treading, one by one, the several steps below him--approaching
momently higher and higher--and his heart beat audibly with conflicting
emotions; while with one hand he grasped convulsively and desperately
the handle of his dirk, the other being fully employed in sustaining the
almost fainting form of his high-souled but delicate companion. He felt
that, if discovered, he could do little in his defence and against
assault; and though without a thought but that of fierce struggle to the
last, his reason taught him to perceive with how little hope of success.

As the assassins continued to advance, he could distinctly trace every
change of expression in their several countenances. In that of Rivers,
linked with the hideousness that his wound conferred upon it, he noted
the more wicked workings of a spirit, the fell character of whose
features received no moderate exaggeration from the dim and flickering
glare of the lamp which his hand unsteadily carried. The whole face had
in it something awfully fearful. He seemed, in its expression, already
striking the blow at the breast of his victim, or rioting with a
fiendish revenge in his groaned agonies. A brief dialogue between his
companion and himself more fully describes the character of the monster.

"Stay--you hurry too much in this matter," said Munro, putting his hand
on that of Rivers, and restraining his steps for a moment as he paused,
seemingly to listen. He continued--

"Your hand trembles, Rivers, and you let your lamp dance about too much
to find it useful. Your footstep is unsteady, and but now the stairs
creaked heavily beneath you. You must proceed with more caution, or we
shall be overheard. These are sleepless times, and this youth, who
appears to trouble you more than man ever troubled