In his ears there still lingered the sound of entreating whisper.--"Am I awake ?--Why do I hear the voices ?" he argued to himself, hazily.--"I cannot get rid of the horrible nightmare yet .-- I have been very drunk .-- What is that shaking me?
I am dreaming yet--I must open my eyes and be done with it.

I am only half awake, it is evident." He made an effort to shake off his stupor and saw a face close to his, glaring at him with staring eyeballs.

He closed his eyes again in amazed horror and sat up straight in the chair, trembling in every limb.

What was this apparition ?--His own fancy, no doubt .-- His nerves had been much tried the day before--and then the drink! He would not see it again if he had the courage to look .-- He would look directly .-- Get a little steadier first .-- So .-- Now.
He looked.

The figure of a woman standing in the steely light, her hands stretched forth in a suppliant gesture, confronted him from the far-off end of the verandah; and in the space between him and the obstinate phantom floated the murmur of words that fell on his ears in a jumble of torturing sentences, the meaning of which escaped the utmost efforts of his brain.