He was so young, and, as it seemed now, the hopes of the past arose once more before him, the faith in the prizes of fame which he would win, his love for Leo, and the promises which had led him on. But so sure as these thoughts assumed form there was another to rise like a dense cloud of horror and cover everything, as he felt that, come what might, he would be haunted ever by this unseen presence--the spirit which he had freed from its envelope of clay--and this could have but one end. He felt that he had tried everything. He had forced himself to calmness, and marked out course after course of treatment such as he would have prescribed to some poor wretch who had consulted him in such a case; and when all was still at night he had stolen down to his surgery, and mingled for his own use sedatives and tonics, but all to no effect. If anything, his malady increased. Two days before Salis had gone over to King's Hampton, Cousin Thompson came once more to his bedroom door, to beg that he would come down and see his friend. "It is impossible," he had replied hoarsely. "But he has come down again, vastly improved by your treatment; and without you he feels that he would be a dying man. Come, you cannot refuse." North held out for a time, and at last gave way, more from the desire of getting rid of his cousin and the patient than from any wish to repeat his advice. "I'll come this time," he said; "but this visit must be final. There are hundreds of doctors who can advise the man better than I." "Doubtless," said Cousin Thompson; "but that is not the point. There is not one in any of those hundreds in whom my poor friend will have the faith that he has in you." The argument was unanswerable. "I will be down in a few minutes," North said; and trying hard to master the nervous feeling which came over him, and wondering whether he could get through the interview without some absurd utterance, he drew aside the blind to accustom his eyes once more to the light. It was some moments before he could face it, and then he looked despairingly at the wan, haggard face before him in the glass. He shrank from it at first, but looked again and again, without the feeling of horror that had pervaded him before. His countenance was changed, and terribly wan and drawn; eyes and cheeks were sunken, so that the former seemed set in deep, cavernous holes; but as he gazed he did not seem to dread the sound of mocking laughter, or of some strange utterance which he could not control, and proceeded to make himself somewhat more presentable for those below. "And they come to me for help," he muttered, "who want it more than any man on earth." As he opened his door he frowned, for he caught sight of the old housekeeper hastily beating a retreat, and a shiver ran through him as he felt how he was watched. But he went on down into the hall, where a low murmur of voices told him that his visitors were in the drawing-room.