laced and
persuaded, and made an oath, and conducted her back to her own chamber
unperceived. How weak is sleep!... It was a habit, sir, contracted in
childhood, long dormant, that Evil had woke again. The Past awaits us
all. So run Time's sands, till mercy's globe is empty and ..."

He stooped and whispered it across to me: "... A child, a comparative
child, shrunk to an anatomy, her beauty changed, ghostly of youth and
all its sadness, baffled by a word, slave to a doctor's nod! None
knew but I, and, at the last, one of her ladies--a gentle, faithful,
and fearful creature. Nor she till far beyond all mischief....

"Wild deeds are done. But to have blood on the hands, a cry in the
ears, and one same glassy face eye to eye, that nothing can dim, nor
even slumber pacify--dreams, dreams, intangible, enorm! Forefend them,
God, from me!"

He stood a moment as if he were listening; then turned, smiling
irresolutely, and eyed me aimlessly. He seemed afraid of his own
house, askance at his own furniture. Yet, though I scarce know why, I
felt he had not told me the whole truth. Something fidelity had yet
withheld from vanity. I longed to enquire further. I put aside how
many burning questions awhile!

XIV

_And if we gang to sea, master,
I fear we'll come to harm._

--OLD BALLAD.

By and by less anxious talk soothed him. Indeed it was he who
suggested one last bright draught of air beneath his trees before
retiring. Down we went again with some unnecessary clatter. And here
were stars between the fruited boughs, silvery Capella and the Twins,
and low on the sky's moonlit border Venus excellently bright.

He asked me whither I proposed going, if I needs must go; besought
there and then in the ambrosial night-air the history of my
wanderings--a mere nine days' wonder; and told me how he himself much
feared and hated the sea.

He questioned me also with not a little subtilty (and double-dealing
too, I fancied,) regarding my own country, and of things present, and
things real. In fact nothing, I think, so much flattered his
vanity--unless it was my wonder at Dame Partlett's clucking on his
viol-strings--as to learn himself was famous even so far as to ages
yet unborn. He gazed on the simple moon with limpid, amiable eyes, and
caught my fingers in his.

How, then, could I even so much as hint to enquire which century
indeed was his, who had no need of any? How could I abash that kindly
vanity of hi