lmed down from my state of excitement.
The living apparition of Mary Simms occupied my mind almost to the
exclusion of the terrors of the ghostly voice which had haunted me, and
my own fears of coming insanity. In truth, what was that man to me?
Nothing. What did his doings matter to such a perfect stranger as
myself? Nothing. His connection with Mary Simms was our only link; and
in what should that affect me? Nothing again. I debated with myself
whether it were not foolish of me to comply with my youthful companion's
request to visit her; whether it were not imprudent in me to take any
further interest in the lost woman; whether there were not even danger
in seeking to penetrate mysteries which were no concern of mine. The
resolution to which I came pleased me, and I said aloud, "No, I will not
go!"

At the same moment came again the voice like an awful echo to my
words--"Go!" It came so suddenly and so imperatively, almost without any
previous warning of the usual shudder, that the shock was more than I
could bear. I believe I fainted; I know I found myself, when I came to
consciousness, in my arm-chair, cold and numb, and my candles had almost
burned down into their sockets.

The next morning I was really ill. A sort of low fever seemed to have
prostrated me, and I would have willingly seized so valid a reason for
disobeying, at least for that day--for some days, perhaps--the
injunction of that ghostly voice. But all that morning it never left me.
My fearful chilly fit was of constant recurrence, and the words "Go! go!
go!" were murmured so perpetually in my ears--the sound was one of such
urgent entreaty--that all force of will gave way completely. Had I
remained in that lone room, I should have gone wholly mad. As yet, to my
own feelings, I was but partially out of my senses.

I dressed hastily; and, I scarce know how--by no effort of my own will,
it seemed to me--I was in the open air. The address of Mary Simms was in
a street not far from my own suburb. Without any power of reasoning, I
found myself before the door of the house. I knocked, and asked a
slipshod girl who opened the door to me for "Miss Simms." She knew no
such person, held a brief shrill colloquy with some female in the
back-parlor, and, on coming back, was about to shut the door in my face,
when a voice from above--the voice of her I sought--called down the
stairs, "Let the gentleman come up!"

I was allowed to pass. In the front drawing-room