all but a dream--don't you think so? It could not be anything more than
a dream."

"Of _course_" said I, feeling uncommonly nervous, "it _was_ a dream."

"I thought," he said, "there was a man in my room, and--and I jumped out
of bed; and--and--where's the candle?"

"In your room, most likely," I said, "shall I go and bring it?"

"No; stay here--don't go; it's no matter--don't, I tell you; it was all
a dream. Bolt the door, Dick; I'll stay here with you--I feel nervous.
So, Dick, like a good fellow, light your candle and open the window--I
am in a _shocking state_."

I did as he asked me, and robing himself like Granuaile in one of my
blankets, he seated himself close beside my bed.

Every body knows how contagious is fear of all sorts, but more
especially that particular kind of fear under which poor Tom was at that
moment labouring. I would not have heard, nor I believe would he have
recapitulated, just at that moment, for half the world, the details of
the hideous vision which had so unmanned him.

"Don't mind telling me anything about your nonsensical dream, Tom," said
I, affecting contempt, really in a panic; "let us talk about something
else; but it is quite plain that this dirty old house disagrees with us
both, and hang me if I stay here any longer, to be pestered with
indigestion and--and--bad nights, so we may as well look out for
lodgings--don't you think so?--at once."