leave the house.

I was alone in that back drawing-room. Why? what did I want there? I was
soon to learn. I felt the chill invisible presence near me; and the
voice said, "Search!"

The room belonged to the common representative class of back
drawing-rooms in "apartments" of the better kind. The only one
unfamiliar piece of furniture was an old Indian cabinet; and my eye
naturally fell on that. As I stood and looked at it with a strange
unaccountable feeling of fascination, again came the voice--"Search!"

I shuddered and obeyed. The cabinet was firmly locked; there was no
power of opening it except by burglarious infraction; but still the
voice said, "Search!"

A thought suddenly struck me, and I turned the cabinet from its position
against the wall. Behind, the woodwork had rotted, and in many portions
fallen away, so that the inner drawers were visible. What could my
ghostly monitor mean--that I should open those drawers? I would not do
such a deed of petty treachery. I turned defiantly, and addressing
myself to the invisible as if it were a living creature by my side, I
cried, "I must not, will not, do such an act of baseness."

The voice replied, "Search!"

I might have known that, in my state of what I deemed insanity,
resistance was in vain. I grasped the most accessible drawer from
behind, and pulled it toward me. Uppermost within it lay letters: they
were addressed to "Captain Cameron,"--"Captain George Cameron." That
name!--the name of Julia's husband, the man with whom she had eloped;
for it was he who was the object of my pursuit.

My shuddering fit became so strong that I could scarce hold the papers;
and "Search!" was repeated in my ear.

Below the letters lay a small book in a limp black cover. I opened this
book with trembling hand; it was filled with manuscript--Julia's
well-known handwriting.

"Read!" muttered the voice. I read. There were long entries by poor
Julia of her daily life; complaints of her husband's unkindness,
neglect, then cruelty. I turned to the last pages: her hand had grown
very feeble now, and she was very ill. "George seems kinder now," she
wrote; "he brings me all my medicines with his own hand." Later on: "I
am dying; I know I am dying: he has poisoned me. I saw him last night
through the curtains pour something in my cup; I saw it in his evil eye.
I would not drink; I will drink no more; but I feel that I must die."

These were the last words. Below were written, in