tely upon the fringe of
laurel that hung over the chasm.

It was quite dark; the few far-spread stars gave scarcely any light,
and the slight auroral glow towards the north was all that outlined the
fringe of the abyss, which might have proved dangerous to any unfamiliar
wanderer. A damp breath of sodden leaves came from its depths. Beside
him stretched the long dark facade of the wing he inhabited, his own
window the only one that showed a faint light. A few paces beyond, a
singular structure of rustic wood and glass, combining the peculiarities
of a sentry-box, a summer-house, and a shelter, was built against the
blank wall of the wing. He imagined the monotonous prospect from
its windows of the tufted chasm, the coldly profiled northern hills
beyond,--and shivered. A little further on, sunk in the wall like a
postern, was a small door that evidently gave easy egress to seekers
of this stern retreat. In the still air a faint grating sound like the
passage of a foot across gravel came to him as from the distance. He
paused, thinking he had been followed by one of the card-players, but
saw no one, and the sound was not repeated.

It was past one. He re-entered the billiard-room, passed the unchanged
group of card-players, and taking a candlestick from the hall ascended
the dark and silent staircase into the corridor. The light of his candle
cast a flickering halo around him--but did not penetrate the gloomy
distance. He at last halted before his door, gave a scrutinizing glance
around the embayed recess, and opened the door half expectantly. But the
room was empty as he had left it.

It was a quarter past one. He threw himself on the bed without
undressing, and fixed his eyes alternately on the door and his watch.
Perhaps the unwonted seriousness of his attitude struck him, but a
sudden sense of the preposterousness of the whole situation, of his
solemnly ridiculous acceptance of a series of mere coincidences as
a foregone conclusion, overcame him, and he laughed. But in the same
breath he stopped.

There WERE footsteps approaching--cautious footsteps--but not at his
door! They were IN THE ROOM--no! in the WALL just behind him! They were
descending some staircase at the back of his bed--he could hear the
regular tap of a light slipper from step to step and the rustle of
a skirt seemingly in his very ear. They were becoming less and less
distinct--they were gone! He sprang to his feet, but almost at the
same instant