porch, and shows every part of it, except in the narrow shade of that
pillar. There is no one there!"

"Did not the door open?" whispered one of these fanciful persons.

"Didst thou see it, too?" said his companion, in a startled tone.

But the general sentiment was opposed to the idea, that a third
visitant had made application at the door of the deserted house. A
few, however, adhered to this new marvel, and even declared that a red
gleam, like that of a torch, had shone through the great front window,
as if the negro were lighting a guest up the staircase. This, too,
was pronounced a mere fantasy. But, at once, the whole multitude
started, and each man beheld his own terror painted in the faces of
all the rest.

"What an awful thing is this!" cried they.

A shriek, too fearfully distinct for doubt, had been heard within the
mansion, breaking forth suddenly, and succeeded by a deep stillness,
as if a heart had burst in giving it utterance. The people knew not
whether to fly from the very sight of the house, or to rush trembling
in, and search out the strange mystery. Amid their confusion and
affright, they were somewhat reassured by the appearance of their
clergyman, a venerable patriarch, and equally a saint, who had taught
them and their fathers the way to heaven, for more than the space of
an ordinary lifetime. He was a reverend figure, with long, white hair
upon his shoulders, a white beard upon his breast, and a back so bent
over his staff, that he seemed to be looking downward, continually, as
if to choose a proper grave for his weary frame. It was some time