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face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct,

precisely upon the damned spot.

And now have I not told you that what you mistake for

madness is but over-acuteness of the senses?—now, I say,

there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a

watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound

well too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It

increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the

soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely

breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I

could maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish

tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker,

and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror

must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every

moment!—do you mark me well? I have told you that I am

nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night,

amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a

noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for

some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the

beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst.

And now a new anxiety seized me—the sound would be

heard by a neighbor! The old man's hour had come! With a

loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room.

He shrieked once—once only. In an instant I dragged him to

the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled

gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes,

the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did

not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length

it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and

examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed

my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes.

There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would

trouble me no more