His hairs were as white as snow, his
mouth had fallen in, the muscles of his face were relaxed and
withered--he was the very image of hoary decrepid debility. He started
himself at the impression which his appearance visibly made on the
intruders. “You see what I feel,” he exclaimed, “the hour then is come. I am summoned, and I must obey the summons--my master has other work for
me! When a meteor blazes in your atmosphere--when a comet pursues its
burning path towards the sun--look up, and perhaps you may think of the
spirit condemned to guide the blazing and erratic orb.”

The spirits, that had risen to a kind of wild elation, as suddenly
subsided, and he added, “Leave me, I must be alone for the few last
hours of my mortal existence--if indeed they are to be the last.” He
spoke this with an inward shuddering, that was felt by his hearers. “In
this apartment,” he continued, “I first drew breath, in this I must
perhaps resign it,--would--would I had never been born! * * * * * *

“Men--retire--leave me alone. Whatever noises you hear in the course of
the awful night that is approaching, come not near this apartment, at
peril of your lives. Remember,” raising his voice, which still retained
all its powers, “remember your lives will be the forfeit of your
desperate curiosity. For the same stake I risked more than life--and
lost it!--Be warned--retire!”

They retired, and passed the remainder of that day without even thinking
of food, from that intense and burning anxiety that seemed to prey on
their very vitals. At night they retired, and though each lay down, it
was without a thought of repose. Repose indeed would have been
impossible. The sounds that soon after midnight began to issue from the
apartment of the Wanderer, were at first of a description not to alarm,
but they were soon exchanged for others of such indescribable horror,
that Melmoth, though he had taken the precaution of dismissing the
servants to sleep in the adjacent offices, began to fear that those
sounds might reach them, and, restless himself from insupportable
inquietude, rose and walked up and down the passage that led to that
room of horror. As he was thus occupied, he thought he saw a figure at
the lower end of the passage. So disturbed was his vision, that he did
not at first recognize Monçada. Neither asked the other the reason of
his being there--they walked up and down together silently. In a short time the sounds became so terrible, that scarcely had the
awful warning of the Wanderer power to withhold them from attempting to
burst into the room. These noises were of the most mixed and
indescribable kind. They could not distinguish whether they were the
shrieks of supplication, or the yell of blasphemy--they hoped inwardly
they might be the former. Towards morning the sounds suddenly ceased--they were stilled as in a
moment. The silence that succeeded seemed to them for a few moments more
terrible than all that preceded. After consulting each other by a
glance, they hastened together to the apartment. They entered--it was
empty--not a vestige of its last inhabitant was to be traced within. After looking around in fruitless amazement, they perceived a small door
opposite to that by which they had entered. It communicated with a back
staircase, and was open. As they approached it, they discovered the
traces of footsteps that appeared to be those of a person who had been
walking in damp sand or clay. These traces were exceedingly plain--they
followed them to a door that opened on the garden--that door was open
also. They traced the foot-marks distinctly through the narrow gravel
walk, which was terminated by a broken fence, and opened on a heathy
field which spread half-way up a rock whose summit overlooked the sea. The weather had been rainy, and they could trace the steps distinctly
through that heathy field. They ascended the rock together. Early as it was, the cottagers, who were poor fishermen residing on the
shore, were all up, and assuring Melmoth and his companion that they had
been disturbed and terrified the preceding night by sounds which they
could not describe. It was singular that these men, accustomed by nature
and habit alike to exaggeration and superstition, used not the language
of either on this occasion. There is an overwhelming mass of conviction that falls on the mind, that
annihilates idiom and peculiarities, and crushes out truth from the
heart. Melmoth waved back all who offered to accompany him to the
precipice which over-hung the sea. Monçada alone followed him. Through the furze that clothed this rock, almost to its summit, there
was a kind of tract as if a person had dragged, or been dragged, his way
through it--a down-trodden track, over which no footsteps but those of
one impelled by force had ever passed. Melmoth and Monçada gained at
last the summit of the rock. The ocean was beneath--the wide, waste,
engulphing ocean! On a crag beneath them, something hung as floating to
the blast. Melmoth clambered down and caught it. It was the handkerchief
which the Wanderer had worn about his neck the preceding night--that was
the last trace of the Wanderer! Melmoth and Monçada exchanged looks of silent and unutterable horror,
and returned slowly home. FINIS. JOHN PILLANS, Printer, Edinburgh. Transcriber’s Note:

    The following is a list of corrections made to the original. The first line is the original line, the second the corrected one. CHAPTER XXI. CHAPTER XXIII. thus Pliny writeth, “_Apparebat eidolon senex, macie et senie
  thus Pliny writeth, “_Apparebat eidolon senex, macie et senio

  CHAPTER XXII. CHAPTER XXIV. steps she heard the sound of steps pursuing her.”
  steps she heard the sound of steps pursuing her. As they approached, in spite of the darkness of the night, the ruin
  “As they approached, in spite of the darkness of the night, the ruin

  behind a cloud, and every thing was enveloped in darknesss so profound,
  behind a cloud, and every thing was enveloped in darkness so profound,

  another person,--she tried to catch certain words, but she knew nor what
  another person,--she tried to catch certain words, but she knew not what

  CHAPTER XXIII. CHAPTER XXV. Τηλε μἐιργουσι ψυχαι, ειδοωλα καμοντων. Τηλε μ’ ειργουσι ψυχαι, ειδωλα καμοντων. We have now to retrace a short period of our narrative to the night on
  “We have now to retrace a short period of our narrative to the night on

  not aviod giving him his confidence at sight, though he forbore any
  not avoid giving him his confidence at sight, though he forbore any

  within my certain knowledge. within my certain knowledge.”

  CHAPTER XXIV. CHAPTER XXVI. This night he perhaps began to feel the prudence of his wife’s
  “This night he perhaps began to feel the prudence of his wife’s

  The weather was gloomy and cold that evening,--it was unlike a night in
  “The weather was gloomy and cold that evening,--it was unlike a night in

  with an emphatic smile.