"I see," replied the man, "a gentleman in a black robe seated at a table; and he looks very sad. He is young and handsome, too, with coal-black hair curling round his brow." "Has he no mark by which I can distinguish him?" asked the knight. "Yes," answered Dyram; "but it matters not for him, as I see he is amongst the living. It is the absent who generally come first, and then the dead. However, here's a scar upon his right cheek, as if from an old wound." "Sir Henry Dacre!" murmured Roydon. "Try again, man--try again; and let it be the dead this time." Dyram pronounced some more words, apparently in the same language; and then a smile came upon his countenance. "A sweet and beautiful lady!" he said. "How proudly she walks, as if earth were not good enough to bear her! Ha! how is that?"--and, as he spoke, his face assumed a look of terror: his lip quivered, his eye stared; and the countenance of Sir Simeon of Roydon turned deadly pale. "What do you see?" demanded the knight, in a voice scarcely audible. "What do you see?" "She walks by a stream!" cried Dyram, in a terrible tone, "and the sun is just below the sky. Some one meets her, and they talk. He seizes her by the throat!--she struggles--he holds fast--he casts her into the river! Hark, how she shrieks! She sinks--she rises--she shrieks again! Oh God! some one help her!--she is gone!" All was silent in the room for a minute: and Ned Dyram, wiping his brow, as if recovering from some great excitement, gazed round him by the light of the lamp. Simeon of Roydon had sunk into a seat; and his face was so ashy pale, the lids of his eyes so tightly closed, that for a moment his companion thought he had fainted. The instant after, however, he murmured, "Ah! necromancer!" and then starting up, exclaimed, "What horrible vision is this? Who is it thou hast seen?" "Nay, I know not," answered Ned Dyram. "How can I tell? They spoke not;--'twas but a sight. But one thing is certain, that either the man or the woman is closely allied to you in some way." "What was he like?" demanded the knight, abruptly. "It was so dark when he came that I could not see him well," replied Dyram. "He was a tall, fair man; but that was all I saw. The lady was more clearly visible; for when she came, there was a soft evening light in the sky." "Why, fool, it has been dark these two hours," cried the knight. "Not in that glass," answered the other. "When she appeared first, it was a calm sunset, and I saw her well; but it speedily grew dark, and then I could descry nothing but her form, first struggling with her murderer, and then with the deep waters." "Her murderer!" repeated Simeon of Roydon--"her murderer! What was she like?" "A vain and haughty beauty, I should say," replied the man; "with dark hair, and seemingly dark eyes, a proud and curling lip, and----"