The restless, wild-beast pace went on upstairs with intervals hour after hour, as, for the first time for many years, Horace North felt the terrible side of his lonely life, and the want of some one in whom he could really confide--mother, wife, sister--who would believe in him fully; but there were none. His life of study had made him self-sustaining until now. He had had no great call made upon him. But now there was the want, and he sat for hours thinking of his state, only to spring up again and tramp his room. To whom could he fly for counsel--Salis? The old housekeeper? The old doctor in London? Thompson, his cousin, then in the place? "No, no, no! How could I explain myself? If I told all my feelings, all I have done, they would say that I was mad. "It is impossible to speak," he panted. "I am chained--thoroughly chained." He paused in his wearying tramp, for, like a light, there seemed to come in upon him the soft, sweet face of Mary, with her gentle look and luminous eye. She might help him, poor suffering woman. But no, no, no! It was impossible: he could not speak. The time had come round again when, to relieve the terrible tedium of his life, he went out of his room--waiting always till the house was silent and all asleep. He opened his door and went out cautiously, to descend to the hall, and after hesitating for a few minutes, he laid his hand upon the fastening of the front door, as if to go out, but shook his head and turned away. Going silently into the cheerless drawing-room, he paced that, and then the dining-room in turn, till, wearying of this, he crossed to the study to open the door, paused for a moment or two, startled by the loud crack it gave, for the study seemed associated in his mind with the horror of the position he had brought upon himself. Then, thrusting in his head slowly, it seemed to him that he was at last free, for there before him, embodied for the time, was Luke Candlish rising from a chair, much as we had last seen him at his home; and as he gazed wildly at the face dimly-seen in the dark, it seemed to him the time had indeed come when he could crush his haunting enemy beneath his heel, and, rushing forward, he tried to catch him by the throat. "Now," shouted North fiercely, "I have given you back your life; take it, and give me back mine in rest and peace, or, as I restored, so will I destroy." His hands dropped to his side, and he uttered a low moan and shrank away. Not that it was all imagination, for he knew that he had tightly grasped a living, breathing form, which had uttered a cry of dread, and then exclaimed: "Horace--Horace, old fellow, are you mad?" There was a loud rustling, a faint rattling sound, as North staggered to the side of the room and sank upon the couch. Then came a scratching noise, the flash of a match, and the tiny wax light emitting a bluish flame threw up the pale, smooth face of Cousin Thompson, whose eyes were dilated with fear.