68
WYLDER'S HAJVD
"You are in my bed — I died in it a great many years
ago. I am Uncle Lome; and when I am not here, a devil
goes up and down in the room. See! he had his face to
your ear when I came in. I came from Dorcas Brandon's
bed-chamber door, where her evil angel told me a thing;
— and Mark Wylder must not seek to marry her, for he
will be buried alive if he does, and he will, maybe, never
get up again. Say your prayers when I go out, and come
here no more."
He paused, as if these incredible words were to sink
into my memory; and then, in the same tone, and with
the same countenance, he asked —
"Is the blood on my forehead?"
I don't know whether I answered.
"So soon as a calamity is within twelve hours, the blood
comes upon my forehead, as they found me in the morning
— it is a sign."
The old man then drew back slowly, and disappeared be-
hind the curtains at the foot of the bed, and I saw no more
of him during the rest of that odious night.
So long as this apparition remained before me, I never
doubted its being supernatural. I don't think mortal ever
suffered horror more intense. For some seconds I hardly
knew where I was. But soon a reaction came, and I felt
convinced that the apparition was a living man. It was
no process of reason or philosophy, but simply I became
persuaded of it, and something like rage overcame my
terrors.