There was a window at the head of my bed, which I could reach without getting upon the floor: it was a single sash and opened upon hinges.

I quickly opened this window and waited in a perfect tremour of dread for further development.

There was a door at the foot of the stairs; as I heard that door open, I sprang for the window, and my head was just out, when the gentle voice of my friend W.W.

said, "James ?"[A] "Here," said I, "-- -- has come, and he would like to have thee put up his horse." I drew a breath of relief, but my strength and presence of mind did not return for some hours, I slept none that night; for a moment I could doze away, but the voice would sound in my ears, "Where is that boy ?" and it would seem to me it must be the tyrant in quest of his weary prey, and would find myself starting again.
[Footnote A: If W.W.had ascended the stairs without calling, I should certainly have jumped out of the window.] From that time the agitation of my mind became so great that I could not feel myself safe.

Every day seemed to increase my fear, till I was unfit for work, study or rest.