for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? --now, I say,
there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch
makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It
was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as
the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.
But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held
the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the
ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every
instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew
louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me well I have
told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of
the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange
a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some
minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew
louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new
anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The
old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the
lantern and leaped into the room.
He shrieked once --once only. In an
instant I dragged him to the floor, and
pulled the heavy bed over him. I then
smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done.
But, for many minutes, the heart beat on
with a muffled sound. This, however, did
not vex me; it would not be heard
through the wall. At length it ceased. T