"I have come to warn you," said the phantom. "You have neglected my counsel. Be warned now, or you will lose all!"
For a few moments the phantom continued to gaze earnestly at him and then disappeared.
At the same time the strange oppression that had benumbed his faculties left him, and he was able to move.
As he rose from his chair, he found that the fire was almost extinct, and that his taper had burnt low.
On consulting his watch he perceived that it was long past midnight. He could not be quite sure whether he had been dreaming, or had beheld a vision; but he felt the necessity of rest, and hastily disrobing himself, he sought the couch, and slept soundly till morning.
He was awake when old Markland entered his room, but he said nothing to him about the mysterious occurrence of the night.
Determined to abide by his plans, and fearing his resolution might be shaken, he ordered his horses to be got ready in half an hour. He did not see Constance before his departure, but left kind messages for her, and for Mrs. Butler and Monica, by Markland.
The old butler looked very sad, and when Atherton told him he should soon be back again, he did not seem very hopeful.
A fog hung over the moat as he crossed the drawbridge, followed by his groom. On gaining the park, he cast a look back at the old mansion, and fancying he descried Constance at one of the windows, he waved an adieu to her.
As it was not his intention to return to Manchester, but to rejoin the retreating army at Preston, he forded the Mersey at a spot known to Holden, and avoiding Warrington, rode on through a series of lanes to Newton—proceeding thence to Wigan, where he halted for an hour to refresh his horse, and breakfast, after which he continued his course to Preston.