bear. But there was no answer; the moaning went on, and then, as if it
had been real, the voice rose a little higher again, the words
recommenced, "Oh, mother, let me in! oh, mother, let me in!" with an
expression that was heart-breaking to hear.

_As if it had been real_! What do I mean by that? I suppose I got less
alarmed as the thing went on. I began to recover the use of my senses,--I
seemed to explain it all to myself by saying that this had once happened,
that it was a recollection of a real scene. Why there should have seemed
something quite satisfactory and composing in this explanation I cannot
tell, but so it was. I began to listen almost as if it had been a play,
forgetting Bagley, who, I almost think, had fainted, leaning against the
wall. I was startled out of this strange spectatorship that had fallen
upon me by the sudden rush of something which made my heart jump once
more, a large black figure in the door-way waving its arms. "Come in!
come in! come in!" it shouted out hoarsely at the top of a deep bass
voice, and then poor Bagley fell down senseless across the threshold. He
was less sophisticated than I,--he had not been able to bear it any
longer. I took him for something supernatural, as he took me, and it was
some time before I awoke to the necessities of the moment. I remembered
only after, that from the time I began to give my attention to the man, I
heard the other voice no more. It was some time before I brought him to.
It must have been a strange scene: the lantern making a luminous spot in
the darkness, the man's white face lying on the black earth, I over him,
doing what I could for him, probably I should have been thought to be
murdering him had any one seen us. When at last I succeeded in pouring a
little brandy down his throat, he sat up and looked about him wildly.
"What's up?" he said; then recognizing me, tried to struggle to his feet
with a faint "Beg your pardon, Colonel." I got him home as best I could,
making him lean upon my arm. The great fellow was as weak as a child.