But the general sentiment was opposed to the ideathat a third visitant had made application at the door ofthe deserted house. A few， however， adhered to this newmarvel， and even declared that a red gleam like that of atorch had shone through the great front window， as if thenegro were lighting a guest up the staircase. This too waspronounced a mere fantasy.
But at once the whole multitude started， and each manbeheld his own terror painted in the faces of all the rest.
“What an awful thing is this！” cried they.
A shriek too fearfully distinct for doubt had beenheard within the mansion， breaking forth suddenly andsucceeded by a deep stillness， as if a heart had burst ingiving it utterance. The people knew not whether to flyfrom the very sight of the house or to rush trembling inand search out the strange mystery. Amid their confusionand affright they were somewhat reassured by theappearance of their clergyman， a venerable patriarch， andequally a saint， who had taught them and their fathersthe way to heaven for more than the space of an ordinarylifetime. He was a reverend figure with long white hairupon his shoulders， a white beard upon his breast and aback so bent over his staff that he seemed to be lookingdownward continually， as if to choose a proper gravefor his weary frame. It was some time before the goodold man， being deaf and of impaired intellect， could bemade to comprehend such portions of the affair as werecomprehensible at all. But when possessed of the facts， hisenergies assumed unexpected vigor.
“Verily，” said the old gentleman， “it will be fitting that Ienter the mansion-house of the worthy Colonel Fenwicke，lest any harm should have befallen that true Christianwoman whom ye call the ‘Old Maid in the Winding-Sheet.’”
Behold， then， the venerable clergyman ascending thesteps of the mansion with a torch-bearer behind him. Itwas the elderly man who had spoken to the Old Maid，and the same who had afterward explained the shield ofarms and recognized the features of the negro. Like theirpredecessors， they gave three raps with the iron hammer.
“Old C.sar cometh not，” observed the priest. “Well， Iwot he no longer doth service in this mansion.”
“Assuredly， then， it was something worse in old C.sar’slikeness，” said the other adventurer.
“Be it as God wills，” answered the clergyman. “See！
my strength， though it be much decayed， hath sufficedto open this heavy door. Let us enter and pass up thestaircase.”
Here occurred a singular exemplification of the dreamystate of a very old man’s mind. As they ascended the wideflight of stairs the aged clergyman appeared to movewith caution， occasionally standing aside， and oftenerbending his head， as it were in salutation， thus practisingall the gestures of one who makes his way through athrong. Reaching the head of the staircase， he lookedaround with sad and solemn benignity， laid aside his staff，bared his hoary locks， and was evidently on the point ofcommencing a prayer.
“Reverend sir，” said his attendant， who conceived this avery suitable prelude to their further search， “would it notbe well that the people join with us in prayer？”
“Well-a-day！” cried the old clergyman， staring strangelyaround him. “Art thou here with me， and none other？
Verily， past times were present to me， and I deemed thatI was to make a funeral prayer， as many a time heretofore，from the head of this staircase. Of a truth， I saw theshades of many that are gone. Yea， I have prayed attheir burials， one after another， and the Old Maid in theWinding-Sheet hath seen them to their graves.”
Being now more thoroughly awake to their presentpurpose， he took his staff and struck forcibly on the floor，till there came an echo from each deserted chamber，but no menial to answer their summons. They thereforewalked along the passage， and again paused， opposite tothe great front window， through which was seen the crowdin the shadow and partial moonlight of the street beneath.
On their right hand was the open door of a chamber， anda closed one on their left.
The clergyman pointed his cane to the carved oak panelof the latter.
“Within that chamber，” observed he， “a whole lifetimesince， did I sit by the death-bed of a goodly young manwho， being now at the last gasp—”
Apparently， there was some powerful excitement inthe ideas which had now flashed across his mind. Hesnatched the torch from his companion’s hand， andthrew open the door with such sudden violence that theflame was extinguished， leaving them no other light thanthe moonbeams which fell through two windows intothe spacious chamber. It was sufficient to discover allthat could be known. In a high-backed oaken arm-chair，upright， with her hands clasped across her breast andher head thrown back， sat the Old Maid in the Winding-Sheet. The stately dame had fallen on her knees with herforehead on the holy knees of the Old Maid， one handupon the floor and the other pressed convulsively againsther heart. It clutched a lock of hair—once sable， nowdiscolored with a greenish mould.
As the priest and layman advanced into the chamber theOld Maid’s features assumed such a semblance of shiftingexpression that they trusted to hear the whole mysteryexplained by a single word. But it was only the shadow ofa tattered curtain waving betwixt the dead face and themoonlight.
“Both dead！” said the venerable man. “Then who shalldivulge the secret？ Methinks it glimmers to and fro in mymind like the light and shadow across the Old Maid’s face.
And now ’tis gone！”
