I was just about to renew my walk, when a tall, dark figure, wrapped up,
like myself, in a large French cloak, passed slowly along from the other
side of the church, and paused by the copse I have before mentioned. I
was shrouded at that moment from his sight by one of the yew trees; he
stood still only for a few moments; he then flung himself upon the earth,
and sobbed, audibly even at the spot where I was standing. I was in doubt
whether to wait longer or to proceed; my way lay just by him, and it
might be dangerous to interrupt so substantial an apparition. However, my
curiosity was excited, and my feet were half frozen, two cogent reasons
for proceeding; and, to say truth, I was never very much frightened by
any thing dead or alive.

Accordingly I left my obscurity, and walked slowly onwards. I had not got
above three paces before the figure rose, and stood erect and motionless
before me. His hat had fallen off, and the moon shone full upon his
countenance; it was not the wild expression of intense anguish which
dwelt on those hueless and sunken features; nor their quick change to
ferocity and defiance, as his eyes fell upon me, which made me start back
and feel my heart stand still! Notwithstanding the fearful ravages graven
in that countenance, then so brilliant with the graces of boyhood, I
recognized, at one glance, those still noble and chiselled features. It
was Reginald Glanville who stood before me! I recovered myself instantly;
I threw myself towards him, and called him by his name. He turned
hastily; but I would not suffer him to escape; I put my hand upon his
arm, and drew him towards me. "Glanville!" I exclaimed, "it is I! it is
your old--old friend, Henry Pelham. Good God! have I met you at last, and
in such a scene?"

Glanville shook me from him in an instant, covered his face with his
hands, and sunk down with one wild cry, which went fearfully through that