often there; and ever and anon he raised his hands, and pressed them tightly upon his eyes, as if to keep back some emotion which would fain force itself thence.
"What can have put these thoughts in my mind to-night?" he murmured, impatiently, rising and walking the floor with bowed head and folded arms. "I could almost believe the wine I drank was drugged with memories of the past, and dark forebodings for the future. What form is this that rises constantly before me, with haggard face and burning eyes, pointing its skinny finger backward, ever backward, like an index turning ever to the days gone by? It haunts me like a ghost; and turn I here or there, 'tis always crouching close before me, pointing that skinny finger backward. Heavens! what does it mean?"
With a sharp shudder, Arthur again sought his brother's side, and sat down upon the bed.
"If I should ever—if I should ever—ever fall so low, I! Oh, impossible! What a horrible picture! Yet, surrounded, as I am, by danger and temptation—the beautiful habiliments in which vice here presents itself—the constant laceration of my haughty pride—would it be, after all, so impossible? Oh, my poor heart, be strong. Still that white figure pointing backward. Can this be the foreshadowing of my own fate? Oh, never, never! the wine I have taken has heated my brain. Guly! Guly! wake up! I cannot bear to be here by myself!"
And, with a moan of anguish, Arthur buried his face in the pillow.
Guly started up quickly, and looked wildly around, like one suddenly aroused from a nightmare; then his eye fell upon the prostrate figure beside him.
"Dear Arthur, tell me what ails you to-night; you seem strangely at variance with yourself. Tell me what troubles you, my brother."
"A ghost in my heart, Guly. I can't tell what brought it there—I feel it, I see it constantly—a pale, haggard figure, pointing with its bony finger backward."
"You have been asleep, and dreaming, Arthur; undress and come by me here, and we will talk of something else."