I know not whether Frances was really much altered since the time I first saw her； but， as I looked at her now， I felt that she was singularly changed for me； the sad eye， the pale cheek， the dejected and joyless countenance I remembered as her early attributes， were quite gone， and now I saw a face dressed in graces； smile， dimple， and rosy tint， rounded its contours and brightened its hues.I had been accustomed to nurse a flattering idea that my strong attachment to her proved some particular perspicacity in my nature； she was not handsome， she was not rich， she was not even accomplished， yet was she my life’s treasure； I must then be a man of peculiar discernment.To-night my eyes opened on the mistake I had made； I began to suspect that it was only my tastes which were unique， not my power of discovering and appreciating the superiority of moral worth over physical charms.For me Frances had physical charms： in her there was no deformity to get over； none of those prominent defects of eyes， teeth， complexion， shape， which hold at bay the admiration of the boldest male champions of intellect (for women can love a downright ugly man if he be but talented)； had she been either “édentée， myope， rugueuse， ou bossue，” my feelings towards her might still have been kindly， but they could never have been impassioned； I had affection for the poor little misshapen Sylvie， but for her I could never have had love.It is true Frances’ mental points had been the first to interest me， and they still retained the strongest hold on my preference； but I liked the graces of her person too.I derived a pleasure， purely material， from contemplating the clearness of her brown eyes， the fairness of her fine skin， the purity of her well-set teeth， the proportion ofher delicate form； and that pleasure I could ill have dispensed with.It appeared， then， that I too was a sensualist， in my temperate and fastidious way.
Now， reader， during the last two pages I have been giving youhoney fresh from flowers， but you must not live entirely on food so luscious； taste then a little gall—just a drop， by way of change.
At a somewhat late hour I returned to my lodgings： havingtemporarily forgotten that man had any such coarse cares as those of eating and drinking， I went to bed fasting.I had been excited and in action all day， and had tasted no food since eight that morning； besides， for a fortnight past， I had known no rest either of body or mind； the last few hours had been a sweet delirium， it would not subside now， and till long after midnight， broke with troubled ecstasy the rest I so much needed.At last I dozed， but not for long； it was yet quite dark when I awoke， and my waking was like that of Job when a spirit passed before his face， and like him， “the hair of my flesh stood up.” I might continue the parallel， for in truth， though I saw nothing， yet “a thing was secretly brought unto me， and mine ear received a little thereof； there was silence， and I heard a voice，” saying —“In the midst of life we are in death.”
That sound， and the sensation of chill anguish accompanying it， many would have regarded as supernatural； but I recognized it at once as the effect of reaction.Man is ever clogged with his mortality， and it was my mortal nature which now faltered and plained； my nerves， which jarred and gave a false sound， because the soul， of late rushing headlong to an aim， had overstrained the body’s comparative weakness.A horror of great darkness fell upon me； I felt my chamber invaded by one I had known formerly， but had thought for ever departed.I was temporarily a prey tohypochondria.
She had been my acquaintance， nay， my guest， once before in boyhood； I had entertained her at bed and board for a year； for that space of time I had her to myself in secret； she lay with me， she ate with me， she walked out with me， showing me nooks in woods， hollows in hills， where we could sit together， and where she could drop her drear veil over me， and so hide sky and sun， grass and green tree； taking me entirely to her death-cold bosom， and holding me with arms of bone.What tales she would tell me at such hours！ What songs she would recite in my ears！ How she would discourse to me of her own country—the grave—and again and again promise to conduct me there ere long； and， drawing me to the very brink of a black， sullen river， show me， on the other side， shores unequal with mound， monument， and tablet， standing up in a glimmer more hoary than moonlight.“Necropolis！” she would whisper， pointing to the pale piles， and add， “It contains a mansion prepared for you.”
But my boyhood was lonely， parentless； uncheered by brother or sister； and there was no marvel that， just as I rose to youth， a sorceress， finding me lost in vague mental wanderings， with many affections and few objects， glowing aspirations and gloomy prospects， strong desires and slender hopes， should lift up her illusive lamp to me in the distance， and lure me to her vaulted home of horrors.No wonder her spells then had power； but now， when my course was widening， my prospect brightening； when my affections had found a rest； when my desires， folding wings， weary with long flight， had just alighted on the very lap of fruition， and nestled there warm， content， under the caress of a soft hand—why did hypochondria accost me now？
I repulsed her as one would a dreaded and ghastly concubine coming to embitter a husband’s heart toward his young bride； in vain； she kept her sway over me for that night and the next day， and eight succeeding days.Afterwards， my spirits began slowly to recover their tone； my appetite returned， and in a fortnight I was well.I had gone about as usual all the time， and had said nothing to anybody of what I felt； but I was glad when the evil spirit departed from me， and I could again seek Frances， and sit at her side， freed from the dreadful tyranny of my demon.
