I was unable to reconnoitre the avenue as I would have wished.  It was nearly one o’clock, and we began almost to despair of seeing them upon that night, when I thought I distinguished the sound of wheels, but so remote and faint as to make me at first very uncertain.  The noise approached; it become louder and clearer; it stopped for a moment.  I now heard the shrill screaking of the rusty iron, as the avenue gate revolved on its hinges; again came the sound of wheels in rapid motion.

“It is they,” said I, starting up, “the carriage is in the avenue.”  We all stood for a few moments, breathlessly listening.  On thundered the vehicle with the speed of a whirlwind; crack went the whip, and clatter went the wheels, as it rattled over the uneven pavement of the court; a general and furious barking from all the dogs about the house, hailed its arrival.  We hurried to the hall in time to hear the steps let down with the sharp clanging noise peculiar to the operation, and the hum of voices exerted in the bustle of arrival.  The hall-door was now thrown open, and we all stepped forth to greet our visitors.  The court was perfectly empty; the moon was shining broadly and brightly upon all around; nothing was to be seen but the tall trees with their long spectral shadows, now wet with the dews of midnight.  We stood gazing from right to left, as if suddenly awakened from a dream; the dogs walked suspiciously, growling and snuffing about the court, and by totally and suddenly ceasing their former loud barking, as also by carrying their tails between their legs, expressing the predominance of fear.  We looked one upon the other in perplexity and dismay, and I think I never beheld more pale faces assembled.  By my father’s direction, we looked about to find anything which might indicate or account for the noise which we had heard; but no such thing was to be seen—­even the mire which lay upon the avenue was undisturbed.  We returned to the house, more panic struck than I can describe.  On the next day, we learned by a messenger, who had ridden hard the greater part of the night, that my sister was dead.  On Sunday evening, she had retired to bed rather unwell, and, on Monday, her indisposition declared itself unequivocally to be malignant fever.  She became hourly worse, and, on Tuesday night, a little after midnight, she expired.[B] I mention this circumstance, because it was one upon which a thousand wild and fantastical reports were founded, though one would have thought that the truth scarcely required to be improved upon; and again, because it produced a strong and lasting effect upon my spirits, and indeed, I am inclined to think, upon my character.  I was, for several years after this occurrence, long after the violence of my grief subsided, so wretchedly low-spirited and nervous, that I could scarcely be said to live, and during this time, habits of indecision, arising out of a listless acquiescence in the will of others, a fear of encountering even the slightest opposition,