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Roby, John

"Traditions of Lancashire, Volume 1 (of 2)"

The voice now came on rapidly; it was but a few paces
distant. I felt as though I was the sport and prey of thoughts too
horrible for utterance. Alone, I had to cope with the Evil One;--or I
was already, perhaps, the victim of some diabolical agency. The yell was
close upon my ear; I felt the clammy breath of the grave across my face,
and the sound swept by. It slowly arose;--but the agony of the cry was
more intense,--more sharp and vehement the shriek of "Murder!" Grown
bolder, or perhaps more desperate, I cried out, "Where, in the name
of----?" I had scarcely uttered the words when a loud rushing cleft the
air, and a crash followed, as though some heavy body had fallen at my
feet. The horse burst from its bonds, galloping from me at full speed,
and I stood alone! In this appalling extremity, I approached the object
of my fears. I bent to the ground; stretching out my hand, my fingers
rested on the cold and clammy features of a corpse! I well remember the
deep groan that burst from my lips;--nature had reached the extremity of
endurance--I felt a sudden rush of blood to the heart, and fell beside
my ghastly companion, equally helpless and insensible.


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