Dolph’s mind, however, was too full to take particular note of the objects around him; yet he could not help continually comparing the free, open-hearted cheeriness of this establishment with the starveling, sordid, joyless housekeeping at Doctor Knipperhausen’s.  Still there was something that marred the enjoyment—­the idea that he must take leave of his hearty host and pretty hostess and cast himself once more adrift upon the world.  To linger here would be folly; he should only get deeper in love; and for a poor varlet like himself to aspire to the daughter of the great Heer Vander Heyden—­it was madness to think of such a thing!  The very kindness that the girl had shown towards him prompted him, on reflection, to hasten his departure; it would be a poor return for the frank hospitality of his host to entangle his daughter’s heart in an injudicious attachment.  In a word, Dolph was like many other young reasoners, of exceeding good hearts and giddy heads, who think after they act, and act differently from what they think; who make excellent determinations overnight and forget to keep them the next morning.

“This is a fine conclusion, truly, of my voyage,” said he, as he almost buried himself in a sumptuous feather-bed, and drew the fresh white sheets up to his chin.  “Here am I, instead of finding a bag of money to carry home, launched in a strange place, with scarcely a stiver in my pocket; and, what is worse, have jumped ashore up to my very ears in love into the bargain.  However,” added he, after some pause, stretching himself and turning himself in bed, “I’m in good quarters for the present, at least; so I’ll e’en enjoy the present moment, and let the next take care of itself; I dare say all will work out, ‘some hew or other,’ for the best.”

As he said these words, he reached out his hand to extinguish the candle, when he was suddenly struck with astonishment and dismay, for he thought he beheld the phantom of the haunted house staring on him from a dusky part of the chamber.  A second look reassured him, as he perceived that what he had taken for the spectre was, in fact, nothing but a Flemish portrait, that hung in a shadowy corner just behind a clothes-press.  It was, however, the precise representation of his nightly visitor:—­the same cloak and belted jerkin, the same grizzled beard and fixed eye, the same broad slouched hat, with a feather hanging over one side.  Dolph now called to mind the resemblance he had frequently remarked between his host and the old man of the haunted house; and was fully convinced that they were in some way connected, and that some especial destiny had governed his voyage.  He lay gazing on the portrait with almost as much awe as he had gazed on the ghostly original, until the shrill house-clock warned him of the lateness of the hour.  He put out the light; but remained for a long time turning over these curious circumstances and coincidences in his mind, until he fell asleep.  His dreams partook of the nature of his waking thoughts.  He fancied that he still lay gazing on the picture, until, by degrees, it became animated; that the figure descended from the wall and walked out of the room; that he followed it and found himself by the well, to which the old man pointed, smiled on him, and disappeared.