upon us!"

"Amen!" answered a voice as sweet and "soft as honey dew," which sounded
as if the words were spoken close by his bedside.

The natural inference was, that Geoffrey Hudson, his companion in
calamity, had echoed the prayer which was so proper to the situation
of both. But the tone of voice was so different from the harsh and
dissonant sounds of the dwarf's enunciation, that Peveril was impressed
with the certainty it could not proceed from Hudson. He was struck with
involuntary terror, for which he could give no sufficient reason; and it
was not without an effort that he was able to utter the question, "Sir
Geoffrey, did you speak?"

No answer was returned. He repeated the question louder; and the same
silver-toned voice, which had formerly said "_Amen_" to his prayers,
answered to his interrogatory, "Your companion will not awake while I am
here."

"And who are you?--What seek you?--How came you into this place?" said
Peveril, huddling, eagerly, question upon question.

"I am a wretched being, but one who loves you well.--I come for your
good.--Concern yourself no farther."

It now rushed on Julian's mind that he had heard of persons possessed
of the wonderful talent of counterfeiting sounds to such accuracy, that
they could impose on their hearers the belief, that they proceeded
from a point of the apartment entirely opposite to that which the real
speaker occupied. Persuaded that he had now gained the depth of the
mystery, he replied, "This trifling, Sir Geoffrey, is unseasonable.
Say what you have to say in your own voice and manner. These apish
pleasantries do not become midnight in a Newgate dungeon."

"But the being who speaks with you," answered the voice, "is fitted for
the darkest hour, and the most melancholy haunts."

Impatient of suspense, and determined to satisfy his curiosity, Julian
jumped at once from his pallet, hoping to secure the speaker, whose
voice indicated he was so near. But he altogether failed in his attempt,
and grasped nothing save thin air.

For a turn or two, Peveril shuffled at random about the room, with his
arms extended; and then at last recollected, that with the impediment of
his shackles, and the noise which necessarily accompanied his motions,
and announced where he was, it would be impossible for him to lay hands
on any one who might be disposed to keep out of his reach. He therefore
endeavoured to return to his bed; but, in groping for his way, lighted
fir