chance of succeeding when fear has gained the ascendency.  I durst not quicken my pace lest I should meet with some obstruction; judging it most prudent to allow my steed to grope out his path in the way best suited to his own sagacity.  Suddenly he made a dead halt.  No effort or persuasion could induce him to stir.  I was the more surprised from knowing his generally docile and manageable temper.  He seemed immovable, and, moreover, as I thought, in the attitude of listening.  I too listened eagerly—­intensely; my senses sharpened to the keenest perception of sound.

The moan of the sea came on incessantly as before; no other sound could be distinguished.  Again I tried to urge him forward; but the attempt was fruitless.  I now fancied that there might be some dangerous gulf or precipice just at his feet, and that the faithful animal was unwilling to plunge himself and his rider into immediate destruction.  I dismounted, and with the bridal at arm’s length, carefully stepped forward a few paces, but I could find no intimation of danger; the same deep and level bed of sand seemed to continue onwards, without any shelving or declivity whatever.  Was the animal possessed?  He still refused to proceed, but the cause remained inscrutable.  A sharp and hasty snort, with a snuffing of the wind in the direction of the sea, now pointed out the quarter towards which his attention was excited.  His terror seemed to increase, and with it my own.  I knew not what to anticipate.  He evidently began to tremble, and again I listened.  Fancy plays strange freaks, or I could have imagined there was something audible through the heavy booming of the sea—­a more distinct, and as it were, articulate sound—­though manifestly at a considerable distance.  There was nothing unusual in this—­perhaps the voice of the fisherman hauling out his boat, or of some mariner heaving the anchor.  But why such terror betrayed by the irrational brute, and apparently proceeding from this source? for it was manifest that some connection existed between the impulses of the sound now undulating on the wind, and the alarm of my steed.  The cause of all this apprehension soon grew more unequivocal—­it was evidently approaching.  From the sea there seemed to come, at short intervals, a low and lengthened shout, like the voice of one crying out for help or succour.  Presently the sounds assumed a more distinct and definite articulation.  “Murder!—­Murder!” were the only words that were uttered, but in a tone and with an expression of agony I shall never forget.  It was not like anything akin to humanity, but an unearthly, and, if I may so express it, a sepulchral shriek—­like a voice from the grave.