nd heaped carelessly on the dirty counterpane by a man in a
restless slumber, just as he had thrown himself down, ready dressed,
long after daylight peered in through the broken shutters.

His appearance was in keeping with the room; a soiled dressing-gown,
that had once been very elegant, was wrapt carelessly about him; his
black hair streamed over the pillow, and gave an almost ghastly effect
to his face, as he lay in that troubled dream, already pale and worn
from many sleepless nights.

It was a handsome face, but one from which a physiognomist would have
shrunk, had he seen it in its hard truthfulness, without a gleam of the
fascination which it was capable of expressing in guarded moments and
under more fortunate circumstances.

The sleeper was on the sunny side of mid-age, but his countenance was
one of those which carries no idea of youth with it, even in early
boyhood it was so marked by craft and recklessness that nothing of the
_abandon_ of fresh feeling ever left an imprint there.

It was nearly noon, but he had not stirred or opened his eyes; once or
twice the dilapidated chambermaid, who performed a slatternly duty in
that part of the building, opened the door and peeped in, but her
entrance had not served to arouse him, and she knew better than to
venture upon any further attempt.

Suddenly he woke from a troubled dream and looked about him.

"I dreamed they were railing me up in a coffin," he muttered; "pah, how
plainly I heard them driving in the nails!"

He turned upon his pillow with a shuddering oath, but that instant there
came a knock at the door, this time quick and impatient--it was the
first summons which had caused him that unquiet vision.

"Come in," he called out; "the door isn't locked."

The man raised himself indolently on the bed and looked towards the
door--it opened slowly and a woman entered the room.

Her face was concealed under a heavy veil, but the man seemed to
recognize her at once, for he started up and gave a muttered execration
as he caught sight of his untidy appearance in the little mirror.

Then he hurried towards his visitor, who had closed the door and stood
leaning against it.

"You have come," he exclaimed; "so kind of you--excuse the disorder
here--I did not know it was so late."

He held out his hand with a smile, but she turned away with a gesture of
abhorrence which had no effect upon him save that it deepened the smile
to an ugly sneer.

She threw