I did run; I brought the candle which still remained in the gallery. He took it from my hand, held it up, and surveyed the bed, all blackened and scorched, the sheets drenched, the carpet round swimming in water.
"What is it? and who did it?" he asked.
I briefly related to him what had transpired: the strange laugh I had heard in the gallery; the step ascending to the third story; the smoke,—the smell of fire which had conducted me to his room; in what state I had found matters there, and how I had deluged him with all the water I could lay hands on.
He listened very gravely; his face, as I went on, expressed more concern than astonishment: he did not immediately speak when I had concluded.
"Shall I call Mrs. Fairfax?" I asked.
"Mrs. Fairfax? No:—what the deuce would you call her for? What can she do? Let her sleep unmolested."
"Then I will fetch Leah, and wake John and his wife."
"Not at all: just be still. You have a shawl on: if you are not warm enough, you
