Again he determinedly argued the question, and felt that, failing to arrest the decay of Luke Candlish, he had imbibed the essence of the man which, needing a fleshy body in which to live, had possessed him, so that his fate seemed to be that he must evermore lead a double life, in which there was one soul under the control of his well-schooled brain; the other wild, independent, and for whose words and actions he must respond. "I cannot bear it," he muttered, as he stood back against the wall, as far from the faint light as the room would allow. "It must be like madness in others' eyes, and yet I am sane. I feel like a man haunted by a shadow, and yet it is a fancy--a terrible waking dream. But I will--Heaven help me!--I will look at it from a scientific point of view; say it is so--that I have arrested spirit and not body. Well, what then? Is there anything to fear? "No; and I will not fear it," he muttered, "any more than I would the dead; but," he added, after a pause, "it is the living I fear. I cannot explain--I cannot control--this horror--bah! this essence--when it speaks, and the living give me the blame. No, I cannot, I dare not, explain. Who would believe? No one. They would say I was mad." A gentle tap at the door, but no response. A louder tapping, and no answer. "Mr Thompson, sir, says he must see you on very particular business." North heard the words. His crafty, keen-eyed cousin was there. How could he see him now? It was impossible. He had declined before, and he was persisting again. "Will you come down and see him, sir?" "No: don't do that, Horace, if you are ill. Open the door and I'll come and chat to you there." No sound in reply; but directly after there was a loud noise of mocking laughter from within the room, a boisterous shout, and a partly-heard speech. "Oh, my dear master!" cried Mrs Milt. "Ah!" ejaculated Cousin Thompson, across whose imagination glided the fair prospect of the beautiful Manor House estate, and his eyes glistened as he said softly, "I'm afraid he is very ill." Volume 3, Chapter VIII. COUSIN THOMPSON'S DUTY. "Oh, no; it's nothing at all, sir--nothing at all," said Mrs Milt hastily; "and I didn't know you'd come upstairs behind me, sir." "It was to save you a journey, my dear Mrs Milt," said Cousin Thompson smoothly. "Yes, I'm afraid he is very ill. A little delirious, I think." "Delirious, sir? Oh, nonsense! Master's often like that." "Indeed!" said Cousin Thompson, in a tone of voice which made the housekeeper wish she had bitten off her tongue before she had committed herself to such a speech. "You heard him utter that laugh?" "Well, surely to goodness, sir, that don't signify anything. A laugh! I wish I could laugh." "But he gave a `view halloo!' and said something about a fox."