It was evening, for he had lain in that stupor and sleep for hours. Again he resorted to the brandy to dissipate the lingering impressions of the frightful nightmare, and then rang the bell. The servant appeared, and desired to know what his master wanted. Nothing--nothing. Yes, to have light in the library--he would read. Did Mr. Heath wish to have dinner brought up to him? No, no; leave me--leave me. The man lit the gas in the library, replenished the grate, and left. The library was the room adjoining Mr. Heath's, and thither he went. He took a volume from a shelf, and returned to his apartment; then resumed his seat and lethargic stare at the fire. The book fell unheeded from his grasp. Hours passed, and again the coarse, distorted, purple features of Klove appeared--once the countenance of a timid boy, who stood falsely accused and cowering before a stern magistrate; thence driven by a storm of hisses, and flying from home, followed by a widowed mother and child-sister. And the brand THIEF clings to the hapless lad, and enmeshes him in a web of misfortune; now reckless with despair, he plunges into vice and crime, until the law forces him to yield up his spotted soul on the gallows! _And how fared the real thief?_ He, sly and sharp, in sudden glee at his trover, bought with it a lottery ticket that drew a prize. This windfall, shrewdly invested, brought him a fortune, then an heiress; and thus he waxed in wealth and station, until he became one whose possessions bred envy, and whose position commanded respect; while the innocent and wrongly accused boy became an outcast, a criminal--an assassin! Driven to perdition by the wealthy and respectable citizen! * * * * * "It's a dream--a dream. The foolish dream of an enfeebled man, whose reason and judgment are failing and wandering; who is frightened at shadows conjured by his imagination. My mind wanders. Why will those dreadful thoughts return? That sinking terror!" * * * * * "I must leave this room--this place--for the air is full of jibing imps!... I must go, for all this luxury mocks me. Away from this roof--from these ponderous walls, that are loaded with iniquity, or they will fall and crush me.... In some quiet, retired spot I may live in happiness and peace...." * * * * * Mr. Heath left his room, and with stealthy steps descended the stairs. It was late; the house was silent; all had retired for the night save he. With nimble fingers he opened the hall-door noiselessly, and went out on the lawn. He was bareheaded, and in his dressing-gown and slippers. The night was dark, gloomy, and rainy. The cold drops falling on his unprotected head seemed to soothe and refresh him.