"An' he won't forget; he's been huntin' me ever since, like a cat a mouse, an' he'll have me this night if ye won't lay him; for I feel him gettin' stronger every minute, an' I'm growin' weaker. He's a bit scared o' ye, but if ye leave me a minute—there, there! he's yammerin' for me from behind that curtain. Oh, doan't let him, for God's sake, Barnabas!"
The poor wretch was shaking from head to foot. The spirit he feared was the mad creation of his own brain; yet, none the less, it was hunting him to death. Barnabas Thorpe stood upright, and lifted up his hands solemnly.
"If there is any evil spirit here," he said, and his voice rang with undoubting conviction, "I bid it begone, in the name of Jesus Christ the Master." Timothy fell back panting, with a look of utter relief.
"Ay, it's gone; I seed it go!" he said.
CHAPTER II.
A week had gone by, and Margaret was still at Bryanston Square.
She had lost count of time; she could not have told how long ago she had left the preacher on the threshold of the old house in which her childhood and girlhood had been passed.
"Ye'll find me when ye want me. Ye'd best stay wi' him till th' end," Barnabas had said.