flush dawned upon the cheek; the
hands were tightly closed, and another groan preceded one desperate
attempt to throw off the load which prevented returning animation. At
length the eyes opened with a ghastly stare; but evidently conveying
no outward impression to the inward sense. With a loud shriek the body
started up; then, uttering a wild and piercing cry, rolled on the
floor, foaming and struggling for life as though with some powerful
adversary.

"Save me!--save me!" was uttered in a tone so harrowing and dreadful,
more than mortal agony, that De Vessey would have fled, but his limbs
refused their office.

"He strangles me! Fiend--have--have mercy! Wilt thou not? Oh, mercy,
mercy, Heaven!" His senses, though evidently bewildered, resumed their
functions. With a glare of intense anguish he appeared as though
supplicating help and deliverance.

"Who art thou?" was the first inquiry and symptom of returning reason.
"I know thee, De Vessey. But why art thou here? Another victim. Yes,
to torture me. Where am I? In my own chamber! Oh--that horrid cabinet!
Yet--yet these cruel torments. Will they never end?"

De Vessey immediately perceived there was no delusion; the mortal form
of the artist was really before him. Terrible though it were, yet it
was a relief to have companionship with his kind, a being of flesh and
blood beside him. He might now peradventure accomplish his task.
Providence, maybe, had opened a way for his deliverance, and hope once
more dawned on his spirit. He helped the miserable artist to regain
his couch, and sought to soothe him, beseeching the helpless victim
not to give way to frenzy, doubtless resulting from his strange and
emaciated condition. A miracle or a spell had been wrought for his
resuscitation; but the events of the last few hours were alike
enigmas, beyond the common operations of nature to explain.

"Yesterday I attempted suicide," said the artist, "taking poison to
escape a life insupportable to me. Fain would I have broken the chain
which binds me to this miserable existence. But yon tyrant hath given
me a charmed life. I cannot even die!"

"Thy body was dragged from the Seine."

"How?" inquired the artist, with an incredulous look.

"And exposed this morning in the Morgue," continued De Vessey.

"When will my sufferings cease? How have I prayed for deliverance from
this infernal thraldom!"

"Yon deceiver hath doubtless thrown thee into the river, and supposing
thou w