Our breakfast was a substantial fox-hunter's repast,
and the company were generally assembled at it. When ample justice had
been done to the tea, coffee, cold meats, and humming ale, for all
these were furnished in abundance, according to the tastes of the
different guests, the conversation began to break out, with all the
liveliness and freshness of morning mirth.
"But who is the hero of the haunted chamber? - Who has seen the ghost
last night?" said the inquisitive gentleman, rolling his lobster eyes
about the table.
The question set every tongue in motion; a vast deal of bantering;
criticising of countenances; of mutual accusation and retort took
place. Some had drunk deep, and some were unshaven, so that there were
suspicious faces enough in the assembly. I alone could not enter with
ease and vivacity into the joke. I felt tongue-tied - embarrassed. A
recollection of what I had seen and felt the preceding night still
haunted my mind.
It seemed as if the mysterious picture still held a thrall upon me.
