s ears, and he turned as a relief to ascertain
if Gillespie and Corbet were near him. As far as he could judge, they
were about a couple of hundred yards off, and this discovery recalled
his departed courage; he turned his eyes once more to the carriage-door,
but to his infinite relief could perceive nothing. A soft, solemn,
mournful blast, however, somewhat like a low moan, amounting almost to
a wail, crept through the trees under which he stood; and after it had
subsided--whether it was fact or fancy cannot now be known--he thought
he heard the same step slowly, and, as it were with a kind of sorrowful
anger, retreating in the distance.

"If mortal spirit," he exclaimed as they approached, "ever was permitted
to return to this earth, that form was the spirit of my mortal brother.
This, however," he added, but only in thought, when they came up to him,
and after he had regained his confidence by their presence, "this is all
stuff--nothing but solitude and its associations acting upon the nerves;
thus enabling us, as we think, to see the very forms created only by our
fears, and which, apart from them, have no existence."

The men and the chaise were now with him--Gillespie on horseback, that
is to say, he was to bring back the same animal on which Sir Thomas had
secretly despatched Corbet from Red Hall to the town of ------, for
the purpose of having the chaise ready, and conducting Fenton to his
ultimate destination. The poor young man's transfer from the carriage
to the chaise was quickly and easily effected. Several large flasks of
strong spirits and water were also transferred along with him.

"Now, Corbet," observed Sir Thomas apart to him, "you have full
instructions how to act; and see that you carry them out to the letter.
You will find no difficulty in keeping this person in a state of
intoxication all the way. Go back to ------, engage old Bradbury to
drive the chaise, for, although deaf and stupid, he is an excellent
driver. Change the chaise and horses, however, as often as you can, so
as that it may be difficult, if not impossible, to trace the route you
take. Give Benson, who, after all, is the prince of mad doctors, the
enclosure which you have in the blank cover; and tell him, he shall have
an annuity to the same amount, whether this fellow lives or dies. Mark
me, Corbet--whether his charge lives or dies. Repeat these words to
him twice, as I have done to you. Above all things, let him keep him
safe--