On the contrary, in the house wherein we now stood, we could trace the footsteps of dishonest ambition, disappointment, and decay. It was the latter stage, indeed, which was altogether visible. Misery and dilapidation--neglect, and the consequences of neglect, made their abiding place in this dwelling. Yet, every here and there, were slight indications of the steps by which the consummation had been arrived at--a velvet sofa worn through to the sacking--a rich carpet trodden out to the warp--window-frames long unpainted, with the glass rattling in the shrunken wood-work--many a pane cracked and not repaired--chairs broken and unserviceable--tables wanting castors, and leaning, like cripples, on one side--everything, in short, which could display the careless apathy of minds either occupied by eager schemes for the future, or crushed by the disappointment of the past. In that melancholy parlour the black preacher left us, saying,-- "I will go up to him again and see what progress I can make. He is in the room just above; and if I stamp with my foot, it is to show that you had better come up to the door, where I will give you some sign when you shall come in. It is better that you should present yourselves quietly, than run the risk of rousing him into one of his fits of fury, when nothing on earth is to be done with him." Thus saying, he left us; and Mr. Wheatley and I remained a quarter of an hour or more very nearly in silence. He was more impatient than I was, for I think he is naturally of a more irritable disposition. He would sit for a few minutes, and then rise and walk about the room. Then he would open the window-blinds and look out; and then he would sit upon another chair and listen. We could hear, during the greater part of the time, a murmur of low voices; but it was impossible to distinguish who was speaking. At length, Mr. Wheatley, with his whole patience exhausted, jumped up, exclaiming,-- "Come, we had better go up and see what is taking place. We may be kept here all day; and you have business, and so have I, to attend to." Without waiting for reply or assent, he opened the door, went out, and mounted the staircase; but at the top we heard the murmur of voices from a room on the left; and putting my hand upon his arm, I stopped him just as he was about to enter. "Stay a moment," I said. "It is cruel to intrude upon a dying man. That voice sounds very differently now."