curred to her to open the door of her chamber; but as she was
about to do so, an appalling thought flashed thro' her mind.

'What if some terrible being is now standing at the outside of that
door?' and she shrank from opening it. She deeply regretted that she had
not requested her maid Susan to sleep with her, as she crept into bed,
leaving a candle burning on the table.

For about a quarter of an hour she listened intensely, but the sound
which had alarmed her was not repeated; and she began to reason with
herself upon the absurdity of her fears. Finally she succeeded in
persuading herself that she had in reality heard nothing, but had been
deceived by her own imagination. Still, she could not entirely dissipate
her fears; she recollected that the house had the reputation of being
'haunted'--and, though she was naturally neither timid nor
superstitious, a vague and undefinable dread oppressed her, as she lay
in that solitary chamber, where reigned a heavy gloom and profound
stillness.

It was an hour after midnight when she awoke from an uneasy slumber into
which she had fallen; and the first object which met her gaze, was a
human figure, enveloped from head to toe in white drapery, standing near
her bed!

Yes, there it stood, with the upper part of a ghastly face alone
visible, pointing at her with its finger, and freezing her soul with the
steady glare of its eyes.

Long, long stood that dreadful apparition; its attitude seemed to be
either menacing or warning. The terrified woman, under the influence of
a painful fascination, could not avert her gaze from it; and the spectre
stood until the candle was entirely consumed, and the room was wrapped
in profound darkness. Then the Form glided to the bedside, and laid its
cold hand upon her brow. '_Thou shalt see me again!_' it whispered, and
then passed noiselessly from the room.

Mrs. Belmont gave one loud and piercing scream, and then sank into a
state of insensibility.

CHAPTER XIV

_A Glimpse of the Crimes and Miseries of a Great City._

After his narrow escape from an ignominious death, Frank Sydney resumed
his nocturnal wanderings thro' the city, in disguise, in order to do
deeds of charity and benevolence to those who needed his aid. One night,
dressed in the garb of a sailor, and wearing an immense pair of false
whiskers, he strolled towards the Five Points, and entered the 'crib' of
Bloody Mike. That respectable establishment was filled as usu