Chapter XXXV

Why is it that at moments there creeps over us an awe, a terror, overpowering but undefined? Why is it that we shudder without a cause, and feel the warm life-blood stand still in its courses? Are the dead too near?

FALKLAND

Ha! sayest thou! Hideous thought, I feel it twine

O'er my iced heart, as curls around his prey

Th