I was on the point of saying so, when my companion spoke again in broken shivering whispers. “Wilder, look yonder, do you not see it now? I see it distinctly in ghastly outline against the sky; mark how it glides along, slowly, very slowly—a terrible shadow streaked with light, where the shroud parts upon the breast. See, it stops, it beckons, it lures us to its haunt; oh, Wilder, stay not a moment, instantly let us go—not that way—not there—that is the grave, its grave—tread softly, softly, and with haste.” Then in the delirious ecstacy of his terror he suddenly shouted out in a loud clear voice, most appalling in the absorbing silence of the night, “Save me, oh God, for I come into deep water. Let not the pit shut her mouth upon me: save me! save me! I go to judgment.” And he made a step forward, as if to advance upon the mystic horror.
Now was my own concern infinitely increased, when I fancied that I myself could perceive through the gloom what resembled a slowly passing shadow, illumined below, and dark above the wall. The undefined sensation I had before experienced swelled into a deadly sense of sickly fear, as I followed with straining eyeballs a dim something that was stealing along the verge of the enclosure, in the direction of the dark evergreens, erect and human shaped. Had I not been infected by Balfour’s abject terror (for terror is an infectious disease), it is possible that my natural audacity would have made me dash at the figure to solve the dreadful mystery; but as it was, I stood, for the moment, benumbed, terror struck, and incapable of motion. As I gazed with dilated pupils, I saw the shadow wave what seemed an arm, but whether to beckon us onward, or to warn us to desist, I could not in the dim obscurity discern.
At this moment the air became filled with the same strange, sweet, whistling sounds we had before heard—above, below, around us, everywhere. My comrade fell heavily to earth in strong convulsions, and struggled violently in the loose mould, dashing it about in a fearful manner. I endeavoured at first to hold him in these spasms to prevent him from hurting himself, but in vain; so I let him wrestle it out, while I thrust my brandy-flask between his tightly-wedged teeth, and succeeded in getting some brandy into his mouth. I thought of running for Fletcher, but I feared to leave Balfour in his present state, lest, suddenly recovering, he should go raving mad to find himself alone, and apparently deserted; besides, what would become of the horse if Fletcher were to leave the gig. I do not know how it was—for I am sure my present situation was bad enough—but I felt in my anxiety for poor Balfour, and the constant attention I was compelled to give him, a relief from a worse and more prostrating feeling, that of a terror such as I had never understood before. I tried to be calm—determined not to turn my eyes in the direction of the late visitation, and to await, as steadily as I could, the restoration of my comrade to consciousness. The convulsions now nearly ceased, returning only at intervals and in a slight degree. Still he remained insensible. I had loosened his neckerchief and chafed his temples, sprinkling his face with spirit from my flask. After a brief period of intense anxiety, I found the pulse returning, and the breathing in a degree restored. I gently whispered to him that we were going away, and raising him upon his feet I led him with faltering steps towards the point of our entrance. In this way, with difficulty, we gained the boundary wall, and I lifted him over, holding him with one hand, and scrambling up with the other. At this moment the clock struck three, and the sounds rose faintly from the churches of the distant city. As I paused after my exertion, leaning against the wall, and still supporting my companion, the cool night breeze that bore the welcome sound of the bells upon its wings, fanned my heated brow with an ineffable sense of refreshment. My shortened breath grew deeper in the pure current of vital air, and my shaken frame became braced again. My judgment, which had never entirely deserted me, was restored to its full integrity with returning bodily strength. I felt excited, but equal to any emergency. It was clear that Balfour’s mind had not yet sufficiently recovered to enable him to comprehend his situation, nor did I, by any remark, attempt to lead him to a consciousness on this point. With the same slow advance we descended from the churchyard to the road. Here I left him and ran on to Fletcher. Jumping into the gig I told him to drive instantly back to where I had left Balfour.
“What is the matter?” whispered Fletcher; “have you seen the devil, or are you pursued?”
I made no answer, but seizing the reins from him, as we approached the spot, I pulled up sharply, leaped from the gig, and found Balfour exactly where I had left him.
“Here, Fletcher, jump out and lend a hand to get him in.”
Fletcher now whispered: “Oh, the immaculate Balfour drunk, I perceive.”
“Be quiet, you know nothing about it; keep hold of him and remain where you are until my return; I will be with you in ten minutes.”
I hasted back to the churchyard, determined to ascertain, if possible, what it really was that had upset us so completely. As I climbed the wall I glanced in the direction of our recent terror, and leaping down, walked to the grave. Here I collected the tools that were scattered about, and seizing the elevator, which made a formidable weapon, I advanced, with a beating heart, to the other side of the graveyard. As I looked doubtfully round, the various dark objects in the enclosure seemed perfectly stationary. At last I arrived at the extreme end of the yard, and leaned against the wall for a few moments, for I felt a sudden faintness, and the darkness which enveloped me seemed so profound that I lost all idea of the direction to return in.
In a few minutes my faintness passed off, but it required the utmost resolution to enable me to enter the funereal shadows of the evergreens. I did enter though, and walked round and between what I found were cypress trees. No light burst from the gloom. All was bare and silent. I returned with much more trepidation than on my