Her presence of mind forsook her,
and, with a shriek of uncontrollable terror, she flung herself across
the bed, and endeavored to awaken her husband. The place he had occupied
a few minutes before was vacant; and, raising her fear-stricken head,
she perceived, with feelings scarcely less allied to fear, that the
figure she had mistaken for the ghost of Algernon was the corporeal form
of the miser.
He was asleep, but his mind appeared to be actively employed. He drew
near the table with a cautious step, and took from beneath a broad
leathern belt, which he always wore next his skin, a small key. Elinor
sat up on the bed, and watched his movements with intense interest. He
next took up the candle, and glided out of the room. Slipping off her
shoes she followed him with noiseless steps. He descended the great
staircase, and suddenly stopped in the centre of the entrance hall. Here
he put down the light on the last step of the broad oak stairs, and
proceeded to remove one of the stone flags that formed the pavement of
the hall. With some difficulty he accomplished his task; then kneeling
down, and holding the light over the chasm, he said in hollow and
unearthly tones that echoed mournfully through the empty building:
"Look! here is money; my father's savings and my own. Will this save my
soul?"
Elinor leaned over the sordid wretch, and discovered with no small
astonishment that the aperture contained a great quantity of gold and
silver coins; and the most valuable articles of the family plate and
jewels.
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