He remembered to have heard or
read, how that once an old pit had been dug open, in which were found the
remains of persons that, as the shuddering by-standers traditionally
remembered, had died of an ancient pestilence; and out of that old grave
had come a new plague, that slew the far-off progeny of those who had
first died by it. Might not some fatal treasure like this, in a moral
view, be brought to light by the secret into which he had so strangely
been drawn? Such were the fantasies with which he awaited the return of
Alice, whose light footsteps sounded afar along the passages of the old
mansion; and then all was silent.
At length he heard the sound, a great way off, as he concluded, of her
returning footstep, approaching from chamber to chamber, and along the
staircases, closing the doors behind her. At first, he paid no great
attention to the character of these sounds, but as they drew nearer, he
became aware that the footstep was unlike those of Alice; indeed, as
unlike as could be, very regular, slow, yet not firm, so that it seemed
to be that of an aged person, sauntering listlessly through the rooms.
We have often alluded to Middleton's sensitiveness, and the quick
vibrations of his sympathies; and there was something in this slow
approach that produced a strange feeling within him; so that he stood
breathlessly, looking towards the door by which these slow footsteps were
to enter.
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