The Cecil Whig., 1873-04-12

bodily form, was one to be feared, indeed
How or why had he traced herr Will
what motive had he visited at such ar
hour?
She would have screamed out had moi
her tongue been as paralyzed as her eyes,
There was something horribly and unut
terably uuearthly about the whole affair
Say what one will IN these charitable and
tolerant days, there is still to good Chris
tian always something irreconcilable about
Jew; and about such Jew as this, who
was regarded by his neighbers as a wizard
into the bargain-even in these enlighten.
ed days one need not 60 out of London to
find plenty of such beliefs-there was, un-
der such circumstances as these, something
almost satanic. Though not by any means
hysterical, she began to feel the rising and
swelling in the throat that proceeds hystsr,
ia; and all the while the form of Nathan
Levi at its very worst, stood motienless on
the threshold, with its eyes looking she
knew not where, but still fascinating hers.
Suddenly, with one last leap, the flame OF
of the candle gave final flare, and then
left her with her visitor in utter darkness,
and, but for him, alone. And yet, even
through the darkness, she seemed to feel
the light of the small squirting eyes, which
were themselves so used to privation of
light that, like those of prisoners who
have been long confined to their dungeons,
they could see almost as well by night as
by day. But, in any case, they had al
ready had time to take in the aspect of the
room and of its mistress.
Mishtresh Cranshton ?" at last half
grated, half squeaked out voice, of
which the almost timid and deprecating
tone was in grotesque ontrast with the
fearful apparition from which it proceeded.
"Who are you-what do you want ?''
she managed to gasp out almost inaudi-
bly,.
"Ish dish we're you live Ish Mishter
Cranshton very ill?"
"This is where we live? Do you want
my husband? Yes, he is very ILL.,"
"And ish it true that you ave not
bread?''
She was silent. The voice was not one
to expression: it seemed rather to mock at
her misery.
"We trust in God," she said more firm
ly. He who has aided us so far will not
forsake us now."
There was no reply; nor did any come
even after the lapse of many minutes that
seemed like hours. She seemed to have
uttered rade retro of magical efficacy, OF
else the hateful-looking object as to which
she could not even now decide whether it
was ghost or man, was suddenly struck
dumb. Nor, o dear reader, do I decide
whether this apparition was ghost or man
l have myself for too often caught myself
out in mistaking for real flesh and blood
what has aftsrward turned out to be mere
ghost of the most ordinary kind, to be
guilty of any such presumption whore the
experience of another is concerned. l am
man-hunter, and only yesterday l fiat
tered myself that had at last succeeded in
getting hold of a man: but, alas, it proved
to be nothing more than mere common
ghost such as one sees every day.
Meanwhile, during those long hours that
Tina, the emotionless, called minutes, she
dared not even move, for fear of what
might be the result. But, though she felt
herself to be sitting in the midst of name
less terrors, her expression of faith had
given her courage. She had reminded that,
come what might, she could really not be
alone. At last the utter silence endured so
long that she even ventured to stir, and the
charm being thus broken, she found the
power to move. Instinctively gathering
up the unfinished work, she crept on tip
toe, fearing every moment lest in the utter
darkness she should come in contact with
the monster in the bedroom, closed the
door and dragged against, it by way of bar
ricade the large, but, a.las, empty trunk
that served table, chair and wardrobe all
in one.