hat he was with them one
evening when the conversation turned on supernatural appearances, the
possibility of which was maintained by Julian and Owen, while Lillyston
in his genial way was pooh-poohing them altogether. Hazlet alone sat
silent, but at last he said--

"I have never yet mentioned to any living soul what once happened to me,
but I will do so now. Lillyston, you remember the night when I aroused
you with a scream?"

"Well!" said Lillyston.

"That night I was returning in all the bitterness of remorse from places
where, but for God's blessing, I might have perished utterly"--and
Hazlet shuddered--"when from out of the storm and darkness I reached my
room door. You know that a beam ran right across my ceiling. When I
threw open the door to enter, I saw on that beam as clearly as I now see
you--no, _more clearly, far_ more clearly than I now see you, for your
presence makes no special impression on me, and this was burnt into my
very brain--I saw there written in letters of fire--

"`AND THIS IS HELL.'

"Struck dumb with horror, I stared at it; there could be no doubt about
it, the letters burned and glared and reddened before my very eyes, and
seemed to wave like the northern lights, and bicker into angrier flame
as I looked at them. They fascinated me as I stood there dumb and
stupefied, when suddenly I saw the dark and massive form of a hand, over
which hung the skirt of a black robe, moving slowly away from the last
letter. What more I _might_ have seen I cannot tell;--it was then that
I fell and fainted, and my shriek startled all the men on the
stair-case."

Hazlet told his story with such deep solemnity, and such hollow pauses
of emotion, that the listeners sat silent for a while.

"But yet," said Lillyston, "if you come to analyse this, it resolves
itself into nothing. You were confessedly agitated, and almost
hysterical that night; your body was unstrung; you were wet through, and
it was doubtless the sudden passage from the darkness outside to the dim
and uncertain glimmer of your own room, which acted so powerfully on
your excited imagination, as to project your inward thoughts into a
shape which you mistook for an external appearance. I remember noticing
the aspect of your rooms myself that evening; the mysterious shadows,
and the mingled effects of dull red firelight with black objects,
together with the rustle of the red curtain in front of your window
which you had left open, and