Серце-викривач

           NowyoumaythinkthatIdrewback—butno. Hisroomwasasblackaspitchwiththethickdarkness, (fortheshutterswereclosefastened,throughfearofrobbers,) andsoIknewthathecouldnotseetheopeningofthedoor, andIkeptpushingitonsteadily,steadily. 

           Ihadmyheadin, andwasabouttoopenthelantern, whenmythumbslippeduponthetinfastening, andtheoldmansprangupinbed, cryingout—"Who’sthere?" 

           Ikeptquitestillandsaidnothing. ForawholehourIdidnotmoveamuscle, andinthemeantimeIdidnothearhimliedown. Hewasstillsittingupinthebedlistening; —justasIhavedone,nightafternight, hearkeningtothedeathwatchesinthewall. 

           PresentlyIheardaslightgroan, andIknewitwasthegroanofmortalterror. Itwasnotagroanofpainorofgrief—oh,no! —itwasthelowstifledsoundthatarisesfromthebottomofthesoul whenoverchargedwithawe. Iknewthesoundwell. Manyanight,justatmidnight, whenalltheworldslept,ithaswelledupfrommyownbosom, deepening,withitsdreadfulecho,theterrorsthatdistractedme. IsayIknewitwell. Iknewwhattheoldmanfelt,andpitiedhim,althoughIchuckledatheart. Iknewthathehadbeenlyingawakeeversincethefirstslightnoise, whenhehadturnedinthebed. Hisfearshadbeeneversincegrowinguponhim. Hehadbeentryingtofancythemcauseless,butcouldnot.