It seemed as if
his intellect was engulphed in the charmed waters of some whirlpool, and
that all the different scenes and actions which, under ordinary
circumstances, would have been clear and distinct, were mingled together
in inextricable confusion. In the midst of all this, at length, he began
to be conscious of one particular impression or feeling, and that was,
that some one was singing in a low, soft voice, very near to him. This
feeling, strange as it was in such a place, momentarily increased in
volume, until at length it began in its intensity to absorb almost every
other; and he gradually awakened from the sort of stupor that had come
over him. Yes some one was singing. It was a female voice, he was sure
of that, and as his mind became more occupied with that one subject of
thought, and his perceptive faculties became properly exercised, his
intellect altogether assumed a healthier tone. He could not distinguish
the words that were sung, but the voice itself was very sweet and
musical; and as Tobias listened, he felt as if the fever of his blood
was abating, and that healthier thoughts were taking the place of those
disordered fancies that had held sway within the chambers of his brain. "What sweet sounds!" he said. "Oh! I do hope that singing will go on. I
feel happier to hear it; I do so hope it will continue. What sweet
music! Oh, mother, mother, if you could but see me now!" He pressed his hands over his eyes, but he could not stop the gush of
tears that came from them, and which would trickle through his fingers. Tobias did not wish to weep; but those tears, after all the horrors of
the night, did him a world of good, and he felt wonderfully better after
they had been shed. Moreover, the voice kept singing without
intermission. "Who can it be," thought Tobias, "that don't tire with so much of it." Still the singer continued; but now and then Tobias felt certain that a
very wild note or two was mingled with the ordinary melody; and that
bred a suspicion in his mind, which gave him a shudder to think of,
namely, that the singer was mad. "It must be so," said he. "No one in their senses could or would
continue for so long a period of time such strange snatches of song. Alas! alas! it is some one who is really mad, and confined for life in
this dreadful place; for life do I say, am not I too confined for life
here? Oh! help! help! help!" Tobias called out in so loud a tone, that the singer of the sweet
strains that had for a time lulled him to composure, heard him, and the
strains which had before been redolent of the softest and sweetest
melody, suddenly changed to the most terrific shrieks that can be
imagined. In vain did Tobias place his hands over his ears, to shut out
the horrible sounds. They would not be shut out, but ran, as it were,
into every crevice of his brain, nearly driving him distracted by their
vehemence. But hoarser tones soon came upon his ears, and he heard the
loud, rough voice of a man say--

"What, do you want the whip so early this morning? The whip--do you
understand that?" These words were followed by the lashing of what must have been a heavy
carter's whip, and then the shrieks died away in deep groans, every one
of which went to the heart of poor Tobias. "I can never live amid all these horrors," he said. "Oh, why don't you
kill me at once? it would be much better, and much more merciful. I can
never live long here. Help! help! help!" When he shouted this word "help," it was certainly not with the most
distant idea of getting any help, but it was a word that came at once
uppermost to his tongue; and so he called it out with all his might,
that he should attract the attention of some one; for the solitude, and
the almost total darkness of the place he was in, was beginning to fill
him with new dismay. There was a faint light in the cell, which made him
know the difference between day and night; but where that faint light
came from he could not tell, for he could see no grating or opening
whatever; but yet that was in consequence of his eyes not being fully
accustomed to the obscurity of the place; otherwise he would have seen
that close up to the roof there was a narrow aperture, certainly not
larger than any one could have passed a hand through, although of some
four or five feet in length; and from a passage beyond that, there came
the dim borrowed light which made darkness visible in Tobias's cell. With a kind of desperation, heedless of what might be the result, Tobias
continued to call aloud for help; and after about a quarter of an hour,
he heard the sound of a heavy footstep. Some one was coming; yes, surely
some one was coming, and he was not to be left to starve to death. Oh,
how intently he now listened to every sound, indicative of the near
approach of whoever it was who was coming to his prison-house. Now he
heard the lock move, and a heavy bar of iron was let down with a
clanging sound. "Help! help!" he cried again, "help! help!" for he feared that whoever
it was they might even yet go away again after making so much progress
to get at him. The cell door was flung open, and the first intimation
that poor Tobias got of the fact of his cries having been heard,
consisted in a lash with a whip, which, if it had struck him as fully as
it was intended to do, would have done him serious injury. "So, do you want it already?" said the same voice he had before heard. "Oh no--mercy! mercy!" said Tobias. "Oh, that's it now, is it? I tell you what it is, if we have any
disturbance here, this is the persuader to silence that we always use:
what do you think of that for an argument, eh?" As he spoke, the man gave the whip a loud smack in the air, and
confirmed the truth of the argument, by inducing poor Tobias to absolute
silence; indeed the boy trembled so that he could not speak. "Well, now, my man," added the fellow, "I think we understand each
other. What do you want?" "Oh, let me go," said Tobias, "let me go. I will tell nothing. Say to
Mr. Todd that I will do what he pleases, and tell nothing, only let me
go out of this dreadful place. Have mercy upon me--I am not at all
mad--indeed I am not." The man closed the door, as he whistled a lively tune. CHAPTER XXVI. THE MADHOUSE YARD, AND TOBIAS'S NEW FRIEND. This sudden retreat of the man was unexpected by Tobias, who at least
thought it was the practice to feed people, even if they were confined
to such a place; but the unceremonious departure of the keeper, without
so much as mentioning anything about breakfast, began to make Tobias
think that the plan by which he was to be got rid of was starvation; and
yet that was impossible, for how easy it was to kill him if they felt so
disposed. "Oh, no, no," he repeated to himself, "surely they will not starve me to
death." As he uttered these words, he heard the plaintive singing commence
again; and he could not help thinking that it sounded like some requiem
for the dead, and that it was a sort of signal that his hours were
numbered.