ent of this hour shall have passed away, and reason resumed
its proper influence and rule."

I rose, contented with my conclusion, and walked to the window, which
overlooked the pleasure-garden of the house. Robin and his patient
were there; the former sitting on a garden chair, and reposing
comfortably after his meal, heedless of the doings of his charge.
The latter stood immediately below the window, gazing upwards, with
the portrait as before pressed between his marble hands. He perceived
me, and screamed in triumph and delight. The keeper started up; I
vanished instantly. He surely could not have known the situation of
my room--could not have waited there and watched for my appearance.
It was impossible. Yes, I said so, and I attempted to console myself
with the assurance; but my blood curdled with a new conviction that
arose and clung to me, and would not be cast off--the certainty that,
by the utterance of one word, I had, for good or ill, linked to my
future destiny the reasonless and wretched being, who stood and
shrieked beneath the casement long after I was gone.

I joined my friend, the doctor, as usual in the evening, and learnt
from him the news of the day. He had visited his patient at the
parsonage, and he spoke favourably of her case. Although she had
been told of my absence, she was still not aware that I had quitted
the house for ever. Her father thought she was less unquiet, and
believed that in a few days all would be forgotten, and she would be
herself again. Doctor Mayhew assured me that nothing could be kinder
than the manner in which the incumbent spoke of me, and that it was
impossible for any man to feel a favour more deeply than he appeared
to appreciate the consideration which I had shown for him. The
doctor had been silent as to my actual presence in the vicinity,
which, he believed, to have mentioned, would have been to fill the
anxious father's heart with alarms and fears, which, groundless as
they were, might be productive of no little mischief. I acquiesced
in the propriety of his silence, and thanked him for his prudence.
Whilst my friend was speaking, I heard a quick and heavy footstep
on the stairs, which, causing me to start upon the instant, and
hurling sickness to my heart, clearly told, had doubt existed,
how strongly apprehension had fixed itself upon me, and how
certainly and inextricably I had become connected with the object
of my dark and irresistible conceptions. I had no