locksmith,
pointing--'yonder--there--there is his shadow passing by that light.
What--who is this? Let me go.'

'Come back, come back!' exclaimed the woman, clasping him; 'Do not
touch him on your life. I charge you, come back. He carries other lives
besides his own. Come back!'

'What does this mean?' cried the locksmith.

'No matter what it means, don't ask, don't speak, don't think about it.
He is not to be followed, checked, or stopped. Come back!'

The old man looked at her in wonder, as she writhed and clung about him;
and, borne down by her passion, suffered her to drag him into the house.
It was not until she had chained and double-locked the door, fastened
every bolt and bar with the heat and fury of a maniac, and drawn him
back into the room, that she turned upon him, once again, that stony
look of horror, and, sinking down into a chair, covered her face, and
shuddered, as though the hand of death were on her.

Chapter 6

Beyond all measure astonished by the strange occurrences which had
passed with so much violence and rapidity, the locksmith gazed upon the
shuddering figure in the chair like one half stupefied, and would have
gazed much longer, had not his tongue been loosened by compassion and
humanity.

'You are ill,' said Gabriel. 'Let me call some neighbour in.'

'Not for the world,' she rejoined, motioning to him with her trembling
hand, and holding her face averted. 'It is enough that you have been by,
to see this.'

'Nay, more than enough--or less,' said Gabriel.

'Be it so,' she returned. 'As you like. Ask me no questions, I entreat
you.'

'Neighbour,' said the locksmith, after a pause. 'Is this fair, or
reasonable, or just to yourself? Is it like you, who have known me so
long and sought my advice in all matters--like you, who from a girl have
had a strong mind and a staunch heart?'

'I have need of them,' she replied. 'I am growing old, both in years and
care. Perhaps that, and too much trial, have made them weaker than they
used to be. Do not speak to me.'

'How can I see what I have seen, and hold my peace!' returned the
locksmith. 'Who was that man, and why has his coming made this change in
you?'

She was silent, but held to the chair as though to save herself from
falling on the ground.

'I take the licence of an old acquaintance, Mary,' said the locksmith,
'who has ever had a warm regard for you, and maybe has tried to prove it
when he could. Who is this ill-favour