A heavy gust of wind shook the door at this moment with a sound as if something more substantial were pushing against it.

“Ha, ha, ha!—­do you hear her,” said he, with an obstreperous burst of laughter.  The wind died away in a long howl, and Lord Glenfallen, suddenly checking his merriment, shrugged his shoulders, and muttered—­

“Poor devil, she has been hardly used.”

“We had better not tease her at present with questions,” said I, in as unconcerned a tone as I could assume, although I felt every moment as if I should faint.

“Humph! may be so,” said he, “well, come back in an hour or two, or when you please, and you will find us here.”

He again unlocked the door, and entered with the same precautions which he had adopted before, locking the door upon the inside, and as I hurried from the room, I heard his voice again exerted as if in eager parley.  I can hardly describe my emotions; my hopes had been raised to the highest, and now in an instant, all was gone—­the dreadful consummation was accomplished—­the fearful retribution had fallen upon the guilty man—­the mind was destroyed—­the power to repent was gone.  The agony of the hours which followed what I would still call my awful interview with Lord Glenfallen, I cannot describe; my solitude was, however, broken in upon by Martha, who came to inform me of the arrival of a gentleman, who expected me in the parlour.  I accordingly descended, and to my great joy, found my father seated by the fire.  This expedition, upon his part, was easily accounted for:  my communications had touched the honour of the family.  I speedily informed him of the dreadful malady which had fallen upon the wretched man.  My father suggested the necessity of placing some person to watch him, to prevent his injuring himself or others.  I rang the bell, and desired that one Edward Cooke, an attached servant of the family, should be sent to me.  I told him distinctly and briefly, the nature of the service required of him, and, attended by him, my father and I proceeded at once to the study; the door of the inner room was still closed, and everything in the outer chamber remained in the same order in which I had left it.  We then advanced to the closet door, at which we knocked, but without receiving any answer.  We next tried to open the door, but in vain—­it was locked upon the inside; we knocked more loudly, but in vain.  Seriously alarmed, I desired the servant to force the door, which was, after several violent efforts, accomplished, and we entered the closet.  Lord Glenfallen was lying on his face upon a sofa.

“Hush,” said I, “he is asleep”; we paused for a moment.

“He is too still for that,” said my father; we all of us felt a strong reluctance to approach the figure.

“Edward,” said I, “try whether your master sleeps.”

The servant approached the sofa where Lord Glenfallen lay; he leant his ear towards the head of the recumbent figure, to ascertain whether the sound of breathing was audible; he turned towards us, and said—­