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When I got home, I seemed in a dream. My windows looked upon hers; I remained all the day looking at them, and all the day they were closed and dark. I forgot everything for this woman; I slept not, I eat nothing. That evening I fell into a fever, the next morning I was delirious, and the next evening I was DEAD!’ ‘Dead!’ cried his hearers. ‘Dead!’ answered the narrator, with a conviction in his voice which words alone cannot give; ‘dead as Fabian, the cast of whose dead face hangs from that wall!”Go on,’ whispered the others, holding their breath.The hail still rattled against the windows, and the fire had so nearly died out, that they threw more wood on the feeble flame which penetrated the darkness of the studio and cast a faint light upon the pale face of him who told the story. (“The Dead Man’s Story
