felt by no means sure of
myself; and when I confronted him, his manner of receiving me took me
so much by surprise that, for a moment or two, I lost my self-possession
altogether.

Every trace of the lethargy in which he was sunk when I had last seen
him had disappeared. His eyes were bright, his cheeks deeply flushed. As
I entered, he started up, and refused my offered hand.

"You have not treated me like a friend," he said, passionately; "you had
no right to continue the search unless I searched with you--you had
no right to leave me here alone. I was wrong to trust you; you are no
better than all the rest of them."

I had by this time recovered a little from my first astonishment,
and was able to reply before he could say anything more. It was quite
useless, in his present state, to reason with him or to defend myself. I
determined to risk everything, and break my news to him at once.

"You will treat me more justly, Monkton, when you know that I have been
doing you good service during my absence," I said. "Unless I am greatly
mistaken, the object for which we have left Naples may be nearer
attainment by both of us than--"

The flush left his cheeks almost in an instant. Some expression in
my face, or some tone in my voice, of which I was not conscious, had
revealed to his nervously-quickened perception more than I had intended
that he should know at first. His eyes fixed themselves intently on
mine; his hand grasped my arm; and he said to me in an eager whisper:

"Tell me the truth at once. Have you found him?"

It was too late to hesitate. I answered in the affirmative.

"Buried or unburied?"

His voice rose abruptly as he put the question, and his unoccupied hand
fastened on my other arm.

"Unburied."

I had hardly uttered the word before the blood flew back into his
cheeks; his eyes flashed again as they looked into mine, and he burst
into a fit of triumphant laughter, which shocked and startled me
inexpressibly.

"What did I tell you? What do you say to the old prophecy now?" he
cried, dropping his hold on my arms, and pacing backward and forward in
the room. "Own you were wrong. Own it, as all Naples shall own it, when
once I have got him safe in his coffin!"

His laughter grew more and mere violent. I tried to quiet him in vain.
His servant and the landlord of the inn entered the room, but they only
added fuel to the fire, and I made them go out again. As I shut the door
on them, I observed l