Tales of Terror and Mystery

           Oh,whatablessedrelieftofeelthatIwasbackinthenineteenthcentury—backoutofthatmediaevalvaultintoaworldwheremenhadhumanheartswithintheirbosoms.Isatuponmycouch,tremblingineverylimb,myminddividedbetweenthankfulnessandhorror.Tothinkthatsuchthingswereeverdone—thattheycouldbedonewithoutGodstrikingthevillainsdead.Wasitallafantasy,ordiditreallystandforsomethingwhichhadhappenedintheblack,crueldaysoftheworld’shistory?Isankmythrobbingheaduponmyshakinghands.Andthen,suddenly,myheartseemedtostandstillinmybosom,andIcouldnotevenscream,sogreatwasmyterror.Somethingwasadvancingtowardmethroughthedarknessoftheroom.

           Itisahorrorcominguponahorrorwhichbreaksaman’sspirit.Icouldnotreason,Icouldnotpray;Icouldonlysitlikeafrozenimage,andglareatthedarkfigurewhichwascomingdownthegreatroom.Andthenitmovedoutintothewhitelaneofmoonlight,andIbreathedoncemore.ItwasDacre,andhisfaceshowedthathewasasfrightenedasmyself.

           "Wasthatyou?ForGod’ssakewhat’sthematter?"heaskedinahuskyvoice.

           "Oh,Dacre,Iamgladtoseeyou!Ihavebeendownintohell.Itwasdreadful."

           "Thenitwasyouwhoscreamed?"

           "Idaresayitwas."

           "Itrangthroughthehouse.Theservantsareallterrified."Hestruckamatchandlitthelamp."Ithinkwemaygetthefiretoburnupagain,"headded,throwingsomelogsupontheembers."GoodGod,mydearchap,howwhiteyouare!Youlookasifyouhadseenaghost."

           "SoIhave—severalghosts.