a ghost, did not in that particular; for no one but I in his household--and
I very seldom--dared to address him until first addressed by him. I had no
notion how singular this was until I began to go out a little among friends
and relations, and found no such rule in force anywhere else.

As I leaned back in my chair thinking, this phantasm of my father came, and
turned, and vanished with a solemn regularity. It was a peculiar figure,
strongly made, thick-set, with a face large, and very stern; he wore a
loose, black velvet coat and waistcoat. It was, however, the figure of an
elderly rather than an old man--though he was then past seventy--but firm,
and with no sign of feebleness.

I remember the start with which, not suspecting that he was close by me, I
lifted my eyes, and saw that large, rugged countenance looking fixedly on
me, from less than a yard away.

After I saw him, he continued to regard me for a second or two; and then,
taking one of the heavy candlesticks in his gnarled hand, he beckoned me to
follow him; which, in silence and wondering, I accordingly did.

He led me across the hall, where there were lights burning, and into a
lobby by the foot of the back stairs, and so into his library.

It is a long, narrow room, with two tall, slim windows at the far end, now
draped in dark curtains. Dusky it was with but one candle; and he paused
near the door, at the left-hand side of which stood, in those days, an
old-fashioned press or cabinet of carved oak. In front of this he stopped.

He had odd, absent ways, and talked more to himself, I believe, than to all
the rest of the world put together.