Page:Edgar Huntly, or The Sleep Walker.djvu/215

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EDGAR HUNTLY.
199

I looked around me for some one to explain this scene, but no one appeared.

The last spark of fire was put out, so that at that moment any further attempt at discovery seemed vain; still to retire from this scene, neither curiosity nor benevolence would permit. That some mortal injury had been intended was apparent: what greater mischief had befallen, or whether greater might not, by my interposition, be averted, could only be ascertained by penetrating further into the house. I opened a door on one side, which led to the main body of the building, and entered to a bedchamber: I stood at the entrance and knocked, but no one answered my signals.

The sky was not totally clouded, so that some light pervaded the room: I saw that a bed stood in the corner; but whether occupied or not, its curtains hindered me from judging. I stood in suspense a few minutes, when a motion in the bed showed me that some one was there: I knocked again, but withdrew to the outside of the door. This roused the sleeper; who, half groaning and puffing the air through his nostrils, grumbled out in the hoarsest voice that I ever heard, and in a tone of surly impatience—"Who is there?"

I hesitated for an answer; but the voice instantly continued in the manner of one half a sleep, and enraged at being disturbed—"Is it you, Peg? D—n ye, stay away, now—I tell ye, stay away, or, by God, I will cut your throat—I will——" He continued to mutter and swear, but without coherence or distinctness.

These were the accents of drunkenness, and denoted a wild and ruffian life; they were little in unison with the external appearances of the mansion, and blasted all the hopes I had formed of meeting under this roof with gentleness and hospitality. To talk with this being, to attempt to reason him into humanity and soberness, was useless: I was at a loss in what manner to address him, or whether it was proper to maintain any parley. Meanwhile, my silence was supplied by the suggestions of his own distempered fancy.—"Ay," said he, "ye will, will ye? Well, come on—let's see who's the better at the oak-stick:

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