`The black press? where is that?' I asked. `You are talking in your sleep!'

`It's against the wall, as it always is,' she replied. `It does appear odd--I see a face in it!'

`There's no press in the room, and never was,' said I, resuming my seat, and looping up the curtain that I might watch her.

`Don't you see that face?' she inquired, gazing earnestly at the mirror.

And say what I could, I was incapable of making her comprehend it to be her own; so I rose and covered it with a shawl.

`It's behind there still!' she pursued anxiously. `And it stirred. Who is it? I hope it will not come out when you are gone! Oh! Nelly, the room is haunted! I'm afraid of being alone!'

I took her hand in mine, and bid her be composed: for a succession of shudders convulsed her frame, and she would keep straining her gaze towards the glass.

`There's nobody here!' I insisted. `It was yourself, Mrs Linton: you knew it a while since.'

`Myself!' she gasped, `and the clock is striking twelve! It's true, then! that's dreadful!'

Her fingers clutched the clothes, and gathered them over her eyes. I attempted to steal to the door with an intention of calling her husband; but I was summoned back by a piercing shriek--the shawl had dropped from the frame.

`Why, what is the matter?' cried I. `Who is coward now? Wake up! That is the glass--the mirror, Mrs Linton; and you see yourself in it, and there am I too, by your side.'

Trembling and bewildered, she held me fast, but the horror gradually passed from her countenance; its paleness gave place to a glow of shame.

`Oh, dear! I thought I was at home,' she sighed. `I thought I was lying in my chamber at Wuthering Heights. Because I'm weak, my brain got confused, and I screamed unconsciously. Don t say anything; but stay with me. I dread sleeping: my dreams appal me.'

`A sound sleep would do you good, ma'am,' I answered; `and I hope this suffering will prevent your trying starving again.'

`Oh, if I were but in my own bed in the old house!' she went on bitterly, wringing her hands, `And that wind sounding in the firs by the lattice. Do let me feel it--it comes straight down the moor--do let me have one breath!'

To pacify her, I held the casement ajar a few seconds. A cold blast rushed through; I closed it, and returned to my post. She lay still now, her face bathed in tears. Exhaustion of body had entirely subdued her spirit: our fiery Catherine was no better than a wailing child.

`How long is it since I shut myself in here?' she asked, suddenly reviving.

`It was Monday evening,' I replied, `and this is Thursday night, or rather Friday morning, at present.

`What! of the same week?' she exclaimed. `Only that brief time?'

`Long enough to live on nothing but cold water and ill-temper, observed I.

`Well, it seems a weary number of hours,' she muttered doubtfully: `it must be more. I remember being in the parlour after they had quarrelled, and Edgar being cruelly provoking, and me running into this room desperate. As soon as ever I had barred the door, utter blackness overwhelmed me, and I fell on the floor. I couldn't explain to Edgar how certain I felt of having a fit, or going raging mad, if he persisted in teasing me! I had no command of tongue, or brain, and he did not guess my agony, perhaps: it barely left me sense to try to escape from him an

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