“It was very prominent,” she answers, in a sort of awe-struck half-whisper, “and very sharply chiselled; the nostrils very much cut out.” A little pause. “His eyebrows were one straight black line across his face, and under them his eyes burnt like dull coals of fire, that shone and yet did not shine; they looked like dead eyes, sunken, half extinguished, and yet sinister.” “And what did he do?” ask I, impressed, despite myself, by her passionate earnestness; “when did you first see him?” “I was asleep,” she said--“at least I thought so--and suddenly I opened my eyes, and he was _there_--_there_”--pointing again with trembling finger--“between the window and the bed.” “What was he doing? Was he walking about?” “He was standing as still as stone--I never saw any live thing so still--_looking_ at me; he never called or beckoned, or moved a finger, but his eyes _commanded_ me to come to him, as the eyes of the mesmeriser at Penrith did.” She stops, breathing heavily. I can hear her heart’s loud and rapid beats. “And you?” I say, pressing her more closely to my side, and smoothing her troubled hair. “I _hated_ it,” she cries, excitedly; “I loathed it--abhorred it. I was ice-cold with fear and horror, but--I _felt_ myself going to him.” “Yes?” “And then I shrieked out to you, and you came running, and caught fast hold of me, and held me tight at first--quite tight--but presently I felt your hold slacken--slacken--and though I _longed_ to stay with you, though I was _mad_ with fright, yet I felt myself pulling strongly away from you--going to him; and he--he stood there always looking--looking--and then I gave one last loud shriek, and I suppose I awoke--and it was a dream!” “I never heard of a clearer case of nightmare,” say I, stoutly; “that vile Wiertz! I should like to see his whole _Musée_ burnt by the hands of the hangman to-morrow.” She shakes her head. “It had nothing to say to Wiertz; what it meant I do not know, but----” “It meant nothing,” I answer, reassuringly, “except that for the future we will go and see none but good and pleasant sights, and steer clear of charnel-house fancies.” CHAPTER III.