I gazed at him in astonishment; but he, unconscious of my wonder, sat down, with a relieved, almost happy, expression. CHAPTER II. OUR VISITS. So engrossed were we by our plans, which we were laboring to get into shape, that we forgot the passing hours and the demands of appetite. It was long past the lunch hour when a servant appeared to ask if he should not bring in the tray, having waited in vain for the usual summons. With its appearance Lenore came in, the same lovely, sylph-like little creature, but looking rather less fragile than when I saw her last. At the sight of me, her color went and came--one instant she hesitated, then approached and gave me her hand, with a smile and kiss. Her father had already told of her having made two or three visits to the Argyll mansion within the time of my absence; and I attributed her blushes, upon meeting me, to her frank heart accusing her of the disparaging thoughts she had entertained of me. The subtle influence of James had doubtless, without any necessity for putting the idea into words, warned her against me as a bad man; but now as she looked at me, she was sorry for what she had felt, and disposed to renew her old friendship. Before lunch was concluded, Mr. Burton fell into a reverie, which he ended by saying, "We must have the assistance of Lenore, if she can give us any." I felt reluctant to see the child placed again in that unnatural trance; but other considerations were even weightier than our fears for the shock to her nervous system; and after she had chatted a while with us, and had sung for me, Mr. Burton subjected her to the experiment. It had been so long since he had exercised his power over her, that it required a greater effort than on the former occasion which I witnessed, to place her in the desired condition. He, however, finally succeeded perfectly. The dead-letter was placed in her hands, when we observed her shrink as if a serpent had glided over her lap; but she did not throw it down, as she seemed moved to do. "What do you see, Lenore?" "It is too dark to see. A lamp shines across the walk, and I see a man dropping the letter in the box. He is muffled up so that I can not tell about his face; he steals up and goes off again very quickly." "Follow him, Lenore." "It is too dark, father. I am lost in the streets. Oh! now I have overtaken him again; he walks so fast--he is short and thick--he looks as if he were afraid of something. He will not pass the police-officer, but crosses the street, and keeps in the shadow. Now we are at the ferry--it is the Fulton Ferry--I know it well. Oh, dear! the water rises and the wind blows--it is getting morning, but it rains so--and the water is so wild I can not make my way on to the boat." "Don't be discouraged, my child. I would give much to have you follow him across the river, and tell me at what house he stops."