offrey Hudson's pallet declared that the dwarf was already in the
arms of Morpheus.

Amid the total darkness of the apartment, and with a longing desire,
and at the same time no small fear, for the recurrence of the mysterious
address of the preceding evening, Julian lay long awake without his
thoughts receiving any interruption save when the clock told the passing
hour from the neighbouring steeple of St. Sepulchre. At length he sunk
into slumber; but had not slept to his judgment above an hour, when he
was roused by the sound which his waking ear had so long expected in
vain.

"Can you sleep?--Will you sleep?--Dare you sleep?" were the questions
impressed on his ear, in the same clear, soft, and melodious voice,
which had addressed him on the preceding night.

"Who is it asks me the question?" answered Julian. "But be the
questioner good or evil, I reply that I am a guiltless prisoner; and
that innocence may wish and dare to sleep soundly."

"Ask no questions of me," said the voice; "neither attempt to discover
who speaks to you; and be assured that folly alone can sleep, with fraud
around and danger before him."

"Can you, who tell me of dangers, counsel me how to combat or how to
avoid them?" said Julian.

"My power is limited," said the voice; "yet something I can do, as the
glow-worm can show a precipice. But you must confide in me."

"Confidence must beget confidence," answered Julian. "I cannot repose
trust in I know not what or whom."

"Speak not so loud," replied the voice, sinking almost into a whisper.

"Last night you said my companion would not awake," said Julian.

"To-night I warrant not that he shall sleep," said the voice. And as it
spoke, the hoarse, snatching, discordant tones of the dwarf were heard,
demanding of Julian why he talked in his sleep--wherefore he did not
rest himself, and let other people rest--and, finally, whether his
visions of last night were returned upon him again?

"Say yes," said the voice in a whisper, so low, yet so distinct,
that Julian almost doubted whether it was not an echo of his own
thought.--"Say but yes--and I part to return no more!"

In desperate circumstances men look to strange and unusual remedies;
and although unable to calculate the chances of advantage which this
singular communication opened to him, Julian did not feel inclined to
let them at once escape from him. He answered the dwarf, that he had
been troubled by an alarming dream.

"I coul