The pale gibbering ghosts, that start in affright at the magical alarum of the early chanticleer, could not have vanished from their doleful divan with a more impetuous haste, than did full two-thirds of those human beings from the mansion, who had given such life to it a moment before. In an instant, as it seemed, the hall was left to solitude; and the rough stranger, who still sustained the mangled frame of the painter, and had stood staring in astonishment at a scene so unexpected and confounding, had some reason to fear he was left to relieve the sufferings of his charge as he could, and to relieve them alone. A dark frown gathered over his visage, as he beheld the crowd rush away almost without bestowing a look upon his piteous burthen, or upon him; and he was about to mutter his indignation aloud, when it was pacified by a husky voice exclaiming in his ear, "Hum, hah! bless my soul! what, drowned, eh? is the gentleman drowned? a case of suspended animation?--Hillo, Jingleum, stop! Come back, Pepperel! 'Pon my soul, 'tis the identical red-jacket we saw at the Rest! Why, what the devil's all this?--Beg pardon, Miss Loring!--Bless my soul, I hope you ain't hurt? Blood about your sleeve, and look very pale and nervous! A little wine, with"---- "Think not of me, doctor," replied Catherine. "Attend to the young gentleman. This dreadful surprise and the hurry of my father--it will explain all, and excuse all. Aunt Rachel will show you a chamber: command every thing--every thing shall be done that you order. Hasten, doctor, pray hasten, and relieve the young gentleman's sufferings. Gentlemen, pray give your assistance to this good man, and heaven--yes, heaven will crown your exertions with success!" With these hurried expressions, and still more earnest gestures, the young lady gave an impulse to the group now gathered about the wounded man, and he was immediately carried into the house and out of her sight. "Oh, Miss Katy,--beg pardon--that's to say, Miss Catherine," cried a buxom, blubbering damsel, whose quavering treble had borne a distinguished part in the late din of voices, and who had no sooner laid eyes on the young lady, which she did as soon as the tumult was over, than she ran bustling hysterically to her side,--"never saw you in such a pucker! hope we shan't all be murdered. Such dreadful contractions were never heard of--great big hole in your sleeve--the Gilberts all come to life again, and will murder us as sure as we live!" "Be quiet, Phoebe--come with me to my chamber--I don't think he will die!" "Hope not, Miss Katy,--that's Miss Catherine; but they shot him right through the head with a blunderbush, and slashed him to pieces with a baggonet. Oh, the cruel murderers! And Philip, the yellow boy, says----Lor' 'a' mercy! Miss Katy, what's the matter?"