litary hearth, musing
upon my misery and longing for the blessed relief of sleep. There was no
one with me in the house. I had dismissed every servant; for I would
have no spies about me, prying into my misery; and though I could not
keep the world of men and women from my doors, I could at least refuse
to admit them; and this I did--living the life of a recluse almost as
much as I do here, but with less ease, because the wind would bring
whispers, and the walls were not thick enough to shut out from my fancy
the curious glances I felt to be cast upon them by every passer-by that
wandered through the street.

"On this night I had been thinking of Miss Dudleigh, of whose visibly
failing health various murmurs had reached me, and I felt,
notwithstanding my determination to hold myself aloof from every one and
everything that could in any way reopen my still smarting wound, I
could more easily find the sleep I longed for if some word from the
great house would relieve the suspense in which my ignorance kept me.
But I would not go there if I died of my anxiety, nor would I stoop to
question any of the market men or women, who were the only persons
admitted now within my doors.

"The clock was striking, and the strange sense of desolation which is
inseparable from this sound to a solitary man (you see I have no clock
here) was stealing over me, when I heard a tap on one of the windows
overlooking my small garden, and a voice came through the lattice,
crying:

"'Massa--Massa Felt.'

"I knew the voice at once. It was that of one of Miss Dudleigh's
servants, an honest black, who had always been devoted to me from the
day he did me some trifling service with Miss Leighton. Hearing it now,
and after such thoughts, I was so moved by the promise it gave of news
from the one quarter I desired, that I stumbled as I rose, and found
difficulty in answering him. Nor did I recover my self-possession for
hours; for the story he had to tell--after numerous apologies for his
presumption in disturbing me--was so significant of coming evil that my
mind was thrown again into turmoil, and the passions which I had tried
to smother were roused again into action.

"It was simply this: That one evening after Mr. Urquhart's departure,
and the extinguishing of all the lights in the house, he had occasion to
cross the garden. That in doing this he had heard voices, and, stepping
cautiously forward, perceived, lying upon the snow-covered ground,