“The carter, however, was by no means so enamoured of it; he was a rough, churlish fellow (what British workmen is not?). ‘If you take my advice, mister!’ he growled, ‘you’ll pitch the himpish thing in some one helse’s garden rightaway.’ (How characteristic of the charitable Briton.) “I gently rebuked the irate man. Of course, he could afford to be more prodigal with his belongings than I. With evident haste, and still muttering angrily, he went--and I--I called to my housekeeper (Mrs. Partridge), and we examined the heirloom together. “It certainly was a most imposing piece of furniture. Standing at least eight feet high, with a face large in proportion, it towered above me like a giant negro--black--I can’t describe to you how black--black as ebony and shining. “I asked Mrs. Partridge how she liked it; for, to tell you the truth, there was something so indefinably queer about it that I began to wonder if the carter had spoken the truth. “‘It is truly magnificent!’ she said, running her hand over its polished surface, ‘I have never seen so fine a piece of workmanship! It will be the making of this hall--but--it reminds me of a hearse!!!’ “We laughed--the analogy was simply ludicrous. A grandfather’s clock and a hearse! But then--it told the Time! and Time is sometimes represented in the guise of Death! Father Death with the sickle! “My laughter left me and I shivered. “We placed the clock in the right-hand corner of the hall, opposite the front door, so that every one coming to the house could see it; and, as we anticipated, it was much admired--so much admired, in fact, that I became quite jealous--jealous, and of a clock! How very singular. But then I recollected I was ‘engaged,’ and, of course, I resented my _fiancée_ taking notice of any one or anything save myself. “Like all the other visitors, however, she never passed by the clock without pausing to look at it. “‘I can’t help it,’ she whispered. ‘It’s its size! it’s stupendous! It quite fills the house! there is hardly any room to breathe! It’s a monstrous clock! It fascinates me! It’s more than a clock. You must GET RID of it.’ “Avice was whimsical. What, get rid of the Ebony Clock! Impossible--the idea tickled me. I laughed. “I laughed then--but not later, when she had gone and all was quiet. “From the hall below I heard it strike one, two, three--twelve! “Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull and ponderous clang, and the sound that came from its brazen lungs, though loud and deep and musical, was far too thrilling. “Against my will, it made me think, and my thoughts were none too pleasant.