beast; that in the body am a spirit,
a ghost upon the earth, a thing from which all creatures shrink, save
those curst beings of another world, who will not leave me;--I am, in my
desperation of this night, past all fear but that of the hell in which I
exist from day to day. Give the alarm, cry out, refuse to shelter me. I
will not hurt you. But I will not be taken alive; and so surely as you
threaten me above your breath, I fall a dead man on this floor. The
blood with which I sprinkle it, be on you and yours, in the name of the
Evil Spirit that tempts men to their ruin!'

As he spoke, he took a pistol from his breast, and firmly clutched it in
his hand.

'Remove this man from me, good Heaven!' cried the widow. 'In thy grace
and mercy, give him one minute's penitence, and strike him dead!'

'It has no such purpose,' he said, confronting her. 'It is deaf. Give me
to eat and drink, lest I do that it cannot help my doing, and will not
do for you.'

'Will you leave me, if I do thus much? Will you leave me and return no
more?'

'I will promise nothing,' he rejoined, seating himself at the table,
'nothing but this--I will execute my threat if you betray me.'

She rose at length, and going to a closet or pantry in the room, brought
out some fragments of cold meat and bread and put them on the table. He
asked for brandy, and for water. These she produced likewise; and he ate
and drank with the voracity of a famished hound. All the time he was so
engaged she kept at the uttermost distance of the chamber, and sat there
shuddering, but with her face towards him. She never turned her back
upon him once; and although when she passed him (as she was obliged to
do in going to and from the cupboard) she gathered the skirts of her
garment about her, as if even its touching his by chance were horrible
to think of, still, in the midst of all this dread and terror, she kept
her face towards his own, and watched his every movement.

His repast ended--if that can be called one, which was a mere ravenous
satisfying of the calls of hunger--he moved his chair towards the
fire again, and warming himself before the blaze which had now sprung
brightly up, accosted her once more.

'I am an outcast, to whom a roof above his head is often an uncommon
luxury, and the food a beggar would reject is delicate fare. You live
here at your ease. Do you live alone?'

'I do not,' she made answer with an effort.

'Who dwells here besides?'

'One