When I see it I am powerless; I
stand in the gaze of death, in the triumphant presence of preterhuman
power and malignity; my strength, and faculties, and memory all forsake
me. Oh, God! I fear, sir, you know not what you speak of. Mercy, mercy! heaven have pity on me!" He leaned his elbow on the table, and passed his hand across his eyes,
as if to exclude some image of horror, muttering the last words of the
sentence he had just concluded, again and again. "Dr. Macklin," he said, abruptly raising himself, and looking full upon
the clergyman with an imploring eye, "I know you will do for me whatever
may be done. You know now fully the circumstances and the nature of the
mysterious agency of which I am the victim. I tell you I cannot help
myself; I cannot hope to escape; I am utterly passive. I conjure you,
then, to weigh my case well, and if anything may be done for me by
vicarious supplication, by the intercession of the good, or by any aid
or influence whatsoever, I implore of you, I adjure you in the name of
the Most High, give me the benefit of that influence, deliver me from
the body of this death! Strive for me; pity me! I know you will; you
cannot refuse this; it is the purpose and object of my visit. Send me
away with some hope, however little--some faint hope of ultimate
deliverance, and I will nerve myself to endure, from hour to hour, the
hideous dream into which my existence is transformed." Doctor Macklin assured him that all he could do was to pray earnestly
for him, and that so much he would not fail to do. They parted with a
hurried and melancholy valediction. Barton hastened to the carriage
which awaited him at the door, drew the blinds, and drove away, while
Dr. Macklin returned to his chamber, to ruminate at leisure upon the
strange interview which had just interrupted his studies. It was not to be expected that Captain Barton's changed and eccentric
habits should long escape remark and discussion. Various were the
theories suggested to account for it. Some attributed the alteration to
the pressure of secret pecuniary embarrassments; others to a repugnance
to fulfil an engagement into which he was presumed to have too
precipitately entered; and others, again, to the supposed incipiency of
mental disease, which latter, indeed, was the most plausible, as well as
the most generally received, of the hypotheses circulated in the gossip
of the day. From the very commencement of this change, at first so gradual in its
advances, Miss Montague had, of course, been aware of it. The intimacy
involved in their peculiar relation, as well as the near interest which
it inspired, afforded, in her case, alike opportunity and motive for the
successful exercise of that keen and penetrating observation peculiar
to the sex. His visits became, at length, so interrupted, and his
manner, while they lasted, so abstracted, strange, and agitated, that
Lady Rochdale, after hinting her anxiety and her suspicions more than
once, at length distinctly stated her anxiety, and pressed for an
explanation. The explanation was given, and although its nature at first
relieved the worst solicitudes of the old lady and her niece, yet the
circumstances which attended it, and the really dreadful consequences
which it obviously threatened as regarded the spirits, and, indeed, the
reason, of the now wretched man who made the strange declaration, were
enough, upon a little reflection, to fill their minds with perturbation
and alarm. General Montague, the young lady's father, at length arrived. He had
himself slightly known Barton, some ten or twelve years previously,
and being aware of his fortune and connections, was disposed to regard
him as an unexceptionable and indeed a most desirable match for his
daughter. He laughed at the story of Barton's supernatural visitations,
and lost not a moment in calling upon his intended son-in-law. "My dear Barton," he continued gaily, after a little conversation, "my
sister tells me that you are a victim to blue devils in quite a new and
original shape." Barton changed countenance, and sighed profoundly. "Come, come; I protest this will never do," continued the General; "you
are more like a man on his way to the gallows than to the altar. These
devils have made quite a saint of you." Barton made an effort to change the conversation. "No, no, it won't do," said his visitor, laughing; "I am resolved to
say out what I have to say about this magnificent mock mystery of
yours. Come, you must not be angry; but, really, it is too bad to see
you, at your time of life, absolutely frightened into good behaviour,
like a naughty child, by a bugaboo, and, as far as I can learn, a very
particularly contemptible one. Seriously, though, my dear Barton, I
have been a good deal annoyed at what they tell me; but, at the same
time, thoroughly convinced that there is nothing in the matter that
may not be cleared up, with just a little attention and management,
within a week at furthest." "Ah, General, you do not know--" he began. "Yes, but I do know quite enough to warrant my confidence," interrupted
the soldier. "I know that all your annoyance proceeds from the
occasional appearance of a certain little man in a cap and great-coat,
with a red vest and bad countenance, who follows you about, and pops
upon you at the corners of lanes, and throws you into ague fits. Now,
my dear fellow, I'll make it my business to _catch_ this mischievous
little mountebank, and either beat him into a jelly with my own hands,
or have him whipped through the town at the cart's tail." "If _you_ knew what I know," said Barton, with gloomy agitation, "you
would speak very differently. Don't imagine that I am so weak and
foolish as to assume, without proof the most overwhelming, the
conclusion to which I have been forced. The proofs are here, locked up
here." As he spoke, he tapped upon his breast, and with an anxious sigh
continued to walk up and down the room. "Well, well, Barton," said his visitor, "I'll wager a rump and a dozen
I collar the ghost, and convince yourself before many days are over." He was running on in the same strain when he was suddenly arrested,
and not a little shocked, by observing Barton, who had approached the
window, stagger slowly back, like one who had received a stunning
blow--his arm feebly extended towards the street, his face and his very
lips white as ashes--while he uttered, "There--there--there!" General Montague started mechanically to his feet, and, from the window
of the drawing-room, saw a figure corresponding, as well as his hurry
would permit him to discern, with the description of the person whose
appearance so constantly and dreadfully disturbed the repose of his
friend.