And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but a kind of over-sensitivity? Now, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when inside a piece of cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old mans heart. It increased my anger. But even yet I kept still. I hardly breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I attempted to keep the ray of light upon the eye. But the beating of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every second. The old mans terror must have been extreme! The beating grew louder, I say, louder every moment! And now at the dead hour of the night, in the horrible silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new fear seized me — the sound would be heard by a neighbor! The old mans hour had come! With a loud shout, I threw open the lantern and burst into the room. He cried once — once only. Without delay, I forced him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled, to find the action so far done.