The bravo waited--his horse grazed--the moon came forth, stealing through the trees, bringing into fantastic light the melancholy old dwelling- house--the yet more melancholy new pile. Jasper was not, as we have seen, without certain superstitious fancies, and they had grown on him more of late as his brain had become chronically heated and his nerves relaxed by pain. He began to feel the awe of the silence and the moonlight; and some vague remembrances of earlier guiltless days--of a father's genial love--of joyous sensations in the priceless possession of youth and vigour--of the admiring smiles and cordial hands which his beauty, his daring, and high spirits had attracted towards him--of the all that he had been, mixed with the consciousness of what he was, and an uneasy conjecture of the probable depth of the final fall--came dimly over his thoughts, and seemed like the whispers of remorse. But it is rarely that man continues to lay blame on himself; and Jasper hastened to do, as many a better person does without a blush for his folly--viz., shift upon the innocent shoulders of fellow-men, or on the hazy outlines of that clouded form which ancient schools and modern plagiarists call sometimes "Circumstance," sometimes "Chance," sometimes "Fate," all the guilt due to his own wilful abuse of irrevocable hours. With this consolatory creed came, of necessity--the devil's grand luxury, Revenge. Say to yourself, "For what I suffer I condemn another man, or I accuse the Arch-Invisible, be it a Destiny, be it a Maker!" and the logical sequel is to add evil to evil, folly to folly--to retort on the man who so wrongs, or on the Arch-Invisible who so afflicts you. Of all our passions, is not Revenge the one into which enters with the most zest a devil? For what is a devil?--A being whose sole work on earth is some revenge on God!