The night set in and , and the moon was all girt with clouds. The wind blew in , and sighing over the , and setting all the gorse p. 172bushes agroaning. From time to time a little of rain pattered up against the window-pane. I sat until near midnight, glancing over the fragment on by Iamblichus, the Alexandrian platonist, of whom the Emperor Julian said that he was posterior to Plato in time but not in genius. At last, shutting up my book, I opened my door and took a last look at the fell and still more dreary sky. As I my head, a of wind caught me and sent the red ashes of my pipe sparkling and dancing through the darkness. At the same moment the moon shone brilliantly out from between two clouds, and I saw, sitting on the hillside, not two hundred yards from my door, the man who called himself the surgeon of Gaster Fell. He was among the heather, his elbows upon his knees, and his chin resting upon his hands, as motionless as a stone, with his gaze upon the door of my .
At the sight of this ill-omened sentinel, a chill of horror and of fear shot through me, for his gloomy and mysterious associations had cast a round the man, and the hour and place were in keeping with his presence. In a moment, however, a glow of and self-confidence drove this petty emotion from my mind, and I strode fearlessly in his direction. He rose as I approached and faced me, with the moon shining on his grave, bearded face and glittering on his eyeballs. “What is the meaning of this?” I cried, as I came upon him. “What right have you to play the spy on me?”
I could see the flush of anger rise on his face. “Your stay in the country has made you forget your manners,” he said. “The moor is free to all.”
“You will say next that my house is free to all,” I said, hotly. “You have had the impertience to it in my absence this afternoon.”
He started, and his features showed the most intense excitement. “I swear to you that I had no hand in it!” he cried. “I have never set foot in your house in my life. Oh, sir, sir, if you will but believe me, there is a danger hanging over you, and you would do well to be careful.”
“I have had enough of you,” I said. “I saw that cowardly blow you struck when you thought no human eye rested upon you. I have been to your cottage, too, and know all that it has to tell. If there is a law in England, you shall hang for what you have done. As to me, I am an old soldier, sir, and I am armed. I shall not fasten my door. But if you or any other attempt to cross my threshold it shall be at your own risk.” With these words, I swung round upon my heel and strode into my cabin.
For two days the wind freshened and increased, with constant squalls of rain until on the third night the most furious storm was p. 174raging which I can ever in England. I felt that it was useless to go to bed, nor could I concentrate my mind to read a book. I turned my lamp half down to moderate the glare, and leaning back in my chair, I gave myself up to reverie. I must have lost all perception of time, for I have no recollection how long I sat there on the borderland betwixt thought and . At last, about 3 or possibly 4 o’clock, I came to myself with a start—not only came to myself, but with every sense and nerve upon the strain. Looking round my in the dim light, I could not see anything to my sudden . The room, the rain-blurred window and the rude wooden door were all as they had been. I had begun to persuade myself that some half-formed dream had sent that vague thrill through my nerves, when in a moment I became conscious of what it was. It was a sound—the sound of a human step outside my cottage.
Amid the thunder and the rain and the wind I could hear it—a dull, stealthy footfall, now on the grass, now on the stones—occasionally stopping , then resumed, and ever drawing nearer. I sat breathlessly, listening to the sound. It had stopped now at my very door, and was replaced by a panting and , as of one who has travelled fast and far.
By the light of the expiring lamp p. 175I could see that the of my door wa............