I began to question whether I had heard distinctly. Numberless
inexplicable noises are apt to assail the ear in an empty dwelling. The
very echoes of our steps are unwonted and new. This, perhaps, was some
such sound. Resuming courage, I once more applied to the lock. The door,
in spite of my repeated efforts, would not open.

My design was too momentous to be readily relinquished. My curiosity and
my fears likewise were awakened. The marks of violence, which I had seen
on the closets and cabinets below, seemed to indicate the presence of
plunderers. Here was one who laboured for seclusion and concealment.

The pillage was not made upon my property. My weakness would disable me
from encountering or mastering a man of violence. To solicit admission
into this room would be useless. To attempt to force my way would be
absurd. These reflections prompted me to withdraw from the door; but the
uncertainty of the conclusions I had drawn, and the importance of
gaining access to this apartment, combined to check my steps.

Perplexed as to the means I should employ, I once more tried the lock.
The attempt was fruitless as the former. Though hopeless of any
information to be gained by that means, I put my eye to the keyhole. I
discovered a light different from what was usually met with at this
hour. It was not the twilight which the sun, imperfectly excluded,
produces, but gleams, as from a lamp; yet its gleams were fainter and
obscurer than a lamp generally imparts.

Was this a confirmation of my first conjecture? Lamplight at noonday, in
a mansion thus deserted, and in a room which had been the scene of
memorable and disastrous events, was ominous. Hitherto no direct proof
had been given of the presence of a human being. How to ascertain his
presence, or whether it were eligible by any means to ascertain it, were
points on which I had not deliberated.

I had no power to deliberate. My curiosity impelled me to call,--"Is
there any one within? Speak."

These words were scarcely uttered, when some one exclaimed, in a voice
vehement but half-smothered, "Good God!"--

A deep pause succeeded. I waited for an answer; for somewhat to which
this emphatic invocation might be a prelude. Whether the tones were
expressive of surprise, or pain, or grief, was, for a moment, dubious.
Perhaps the motives which led me to this house suggested the suspicion
which presently succeeded to my doubts,--that the person within was
disabled by sickne