286
WYLDER'S HAJVD.
exactly as I opened my eyes, turned slowly on its hinges,
and the figure of Uncle Lome, in his loose flannel habili-
ments, ineffaceably traced upon my memory, like every
other detail of that ill-omened apparition, glided into the
room, and crossing the thick carpet with long, soft steps,
passed near me, looking upon me with a malign sort of
curiosity for some two or three seconds, and sat down by
the declining fire, with a sidelong glance still fixed upo-
me. _  
I continued gazing on this figure with a dreadful £-->,
credulity, and the indistinct feeling that it must be an ver
lusion — and that if I could only wake up completely !Ct
would vanish. 1 -
The fascination was disturbed by a noise at the other
end of the room, and I saw Lake standing close to him,
and looking both angry and frightened. Tom Wealdon
looking odd, too, was close at his elbow, and had his hand
on Lake's arm, like a man who would prevent violence.
I do not know in the least what had passed before, but Lake
said —
"How the devil did he come in?"
"Hush!" was all that Tom Wealdon said, looking at
the gaunt spectre with less of fear than inquisitiveness.
"What are you doing here, sir?" demanded Lake, in
his most unpleasant tones.
"Prophesying," answered the phantom.
"You had better write your prophecies in your room,
sir — had not you ? — and give them to the Archbishop
of Canterbury to proclaim, when they are finished; we
are busy here just now, and don't require revelations, if
you please."
The old man lifted up his long lean finger, and turn-
ed on him with a smile which I hate even to remember.
"Let him alone," whispered the Town Clerk, in a