On examination a wound was discovered on her left side, which had doubtless penetrated to the heart, from the suddenness of her death, and from the effusion of blood which had followed. These terrible events so deeply affected Emilia that she was confined to her bed by a dangerous illness. Ferdinand struggled against the shock with manly fortitude. But amid all the tumult of the present scenes, his uncertainty concerning Julia, whom he had left in the hands of banditti, and whom he had been withheld from seeking or rescuing, formed, perhaps, the most affecting part of his distress. The late Marquis de Mazzini, and Maria de Vellorno, were interred with the honor due to their rank in the church of the convent of St. Nicolo. Their lives exhibited a boundless indulgence of violent and luxurious passions, and their deaths marked the consequences of such indulgence, and held forth to mankind a singular instance of divine vengeance. XVI In turning up the ground of the cell, it was discovered that it communicated with the dungeon in which Ferdinand had been confined, and where he had heard those groans which had occasioned him so much terror. The story which the marquis formerly related to his son, concerning the southern buildings, it was now evident was fabricated for the purpose of concealing the imprisonment of the marchioness. In the choice of his subject, he certainly discovered some art; for the circumstance related was calculated, by impressing terror, to prevent farther enquiry into the recesses of these buildings. It served, also, to explain, by supernatural evidence, the cause of those sounds, and of that appearance which had been there observed, but which were, in reality, occasioned only by the marquis. The event of the examination in the cell threw Ferdinand into new perplexity. The marquis had confessed that he poisoned his wifeyet her remains were not to be found; and the place which he signified to be that of her confinement, bore no vestige of her having been there. There appeared no way by which she could have escaped from her prison; for both the door which opened upon the cell, and that which terminated the avenue beyond, were fastened when tried by Ferdinand. But the young marquis had no time for useless speculationserious duties called upon him. He believed that Julia was still in the power of banditti; and, on the conclusion of his fathers funeral, he set forward himself to Palermo, to give information of the abode of the robbers, and to repair with the officers of justice, accompanied by a party of his own people, to the rescue of his sister. On his arrival at Palermo he was informed, that a banditti, whose retreat had been among the ruins of a monastery, situated in the forest of Marentino, was already discovered; that their abode had been searched, and themselves secured for examples of public justicebut that no captive lady had been found amongst them. This latter intelligence excited in Ferdinand a very serious distress, and he was wholly unable to conjecture her fate. He obtained leave, however, to interrogate those of the robbers, who were imprisoned at Palermo, but could draw from them no satisfactory or certain information. At length he quitted Palermo for the forest of Marentino, thinking it possible that Julia might be heard of in its neighbourhood. He travelled on in melancholy and dejection, and evening overtook him long before he reached the place of his destination. The night came on heavily in clouds, and a violent storm of wind and rain arose. The road lay through a wild and rocky country, and Ferdinand could obtain no shelter. His attendants offered him their cloaks, but he refused to expose a servant to the hardship he would not himself endure. He travelled for some miles in a heavy rain; and the wind, which howled mournfully among the rocks, and whose solemn pauses were filled by the distant roarings of the sea, heightened the desolation of the scene. At length he discerned, amid the darkness from afar, a red light waving in the wind it varied with the blast, but never totally disappeared. He pushed his horse into a gallop, and made towards it. The flame continued to direct his course; and on a nearer approach, he perceived, by the red reflection of its fires, streaming a long radiance upon the waters beneatha lighthouse situated upon a point of rock which overhung the sea. He knocked for admittance, and the door was opened by an old man, who bade him welcome. Within appeared a cheerful blazing fire, round which were seated several persons, who seemed like himself to have sought shelter from the tempest of the night. The sight of the fire cheered him, and he advanced towards it, when a sudden scream seized his attention; the company rose up in confusion, and in the same instant he discovered Julia and Hippolitus. The joy of that moment is not to be described, but his attention was quickly called off from his own situation to that of a lady, who during the general transport had fainted. His sensations on learning she was his mother cannot be described. She revived. My son! said she, in a languid voice, as she pressed him to her heart. Great God, I am recompensed! Surely this moment may repay a life of misery! He could only receive her caresses in silence; but the sudden tears which started in his eyes spoke a language too expressive to be misunderstood. When the first emotion of the scene was passed, Julia enquired by what means Ferdinand had come to this spot. He answered her generally, and avoided for the present entering upon the affecting subject of the late events at the castle of Mazzini. Julia related the history of her adventures since she parted with her brother. In her narration, it appeared that Hippolitus, who was taken by the Duke de Luovo at the mouth of the cave, had afterwards escaped, and returned to the cavern in search of Julia. The low recess in the rock, through which Julia had passed, he perceived by the light of his flambeau. He penetrated to the cavern beyond, and from thence to the prison of the marchioness. No colour of language can paint the scene which followed; it is sufficient to say that the whole party agreed to quit the cell at the return of night. But this being a night on which it was known the marquis would visit the prison, they agreed to defer their departure till after his appearance, and thus elude the danger to be expected from an early discovery of the escape of the marchioness. At the sound of footsteps above, Hippolitus and Julia had secreted themselves in the avenue; and immediately on the marquiss departure they all repaired to the cavern, leaving, in the hurry of their flight, untouched the poisonous food he had brought. Having escaped from thence they proceeded to a neighbouring village, where horses were procured to carry them towards Palermo. Here, after a tedious journey, they arrived, in the design of embarking for Italy. Contrary winds had detained them till the day on which Ferdinand left that city, when, apprehensive and weary of delay, they hired a small vessel, and determined to brave the winds. They had soon reason to repent their temerity; for the vessel had not been long at sea when the storm arose, which threw them back upon the shores of Sicily, and brought them to the lighthouse, where they were discovered by Ferdinand. On the following morning Ferdinand returned with his friends to Palermo, where he first disclosed the late fatal events of the castle. They now settled their future plans; and Ferdinand hastened to the castle of Mazzini to fetch Emilia, and to give orders for the removal of his household to his palace at Naples, where he designed to fix his future residence. The distress of Emilia, whom he found recovered from her indisposition, yielded to joy and wonder, when she heard of the existence of her mother, and the safety of her sister. She departed with Ferdinand for Palermo, where her friends awaited her, and where the joy of the meeting was considerably heightened by the appearance of Madame de Menon, for whom the marchioness had dispatched a messenger to St. Augustins. Madame had quitted the abbey for another convent, to which, however, the messenger was directed. This happy party now embarked for Naples. From this period the castle of Mazzini, which had been the theatre of a dreadful catastrophe; and whose scenes would have revived in the minds of the chief personages connected with it, painful and shocking reflectionswas abandoned. On their arrival at Naples, Ferdinand presented to the king a clear and satisfactory account of the late events at the castle, in consequence of which the marchioness was confirmed in her rank, and Ferdinand was received as the sixth Marquis de Mazzini. The marchioness, thus restored to the world, and to happiness, resided with her children in the palace at Naples, where, after time had somewhat mellowed the remembrance of the late calamity, the nuptials of Hippolitus and Julia were celebrated. The recollection of the difficulties they had encountered, and of the distress they had endured for each other, now served only to heighten by contrast the happiness of the present period. Ferdinand soon after accepted a command in the Neapolitan army; and amidst the many heroes of that warlike and turbulent age, distinguished himself for his valour and ability. The occupations of war engaged his mind, while his heart was solicitous in promoting the happiness of his family. Madame de Menon, whose generous attachment to the marchioness had been fully proved, found in the restoration of her friend a living witness of her marriage, and thus recovered those estates which had been unjustly withheld from her. But the marchioness and her family, grateful to her friendship, and attached to her virtues, prevailed upon her to spend the remainder of her life at the palace of Mazzini. Emilia, wholly attached to her family, continued to reside with the marchioness, who saw her race renewed in the children of Hippolitus and Julia. Thus surrounded by her children and friends, and engaged in forming the minds of the infant generation, she seemed to forget that she had ever been otherwise than happy. Here the manuscript annals conclude. In reviewing this story, we perceive a singular and striking instance of moral retribution. We learn, also, that those who do only that which is right, endure nothing in misfortune but a trial of their virtue, and from trials well endured derive the surest claim to the protection of heaven. Colophon A Sicilian Romance was published in 1790 by Ann Radcliffe. This ebook was produced for Standard Ebooks by Samuel Laws, and is based on a transcription produced in 2005 by Jean Lefever and Al Haines for Project Gutenberg and on digital scans from the HathiTrust Digital Library. The cover page is adapted from Evening Landscape with an Aqueduct, a painting completed in 1818 by Thodore Gricault. The cover and title pages feature the League Spartan and Sorts Mill Goudy typefaces created in 2014 and 2009 by The League of Moveable Type. This edition was released on November 7, 2024, 855 p.m. and is based on revision 5af4a29. The first edition of this ebook was released on July 28, 2021, 613 p.m. You can check for updates to this ebook, view its revision history, or download it for different ereading systems at standardebooks.orgebooksannradcliffeasicilianromance. The volunteerdriven Standard Ebooks project relies on readers like you to submit typos, corrections, and other improvements. Anyone can contribute at standardebooks.org. A Sicilian Romance Imprint This ebook is the product of many hours of hard work by volunteers for Standard Ebooks, and builds on the hard work of other literature lovers made possible by the public domain. This particular ebook is based on a transcription from Project Gutenberg and on digital scans from the HathiTrust Digital Library. The source text and artwork in this ebook are believed to be in the United States public domain; that is, they are believed to be free of copyright restrictions in the United States. They may still be copyrighted in other countries, so users located outside of the United States must check their local laws before using this ebook. The creators of, and contributors to, this ebook dedicate their contributions to the worldwide public domain via the terms in the CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication. For full license information, see the Uncopyright at the end of this ebook. Standard Ebooks is a volunteerdriven project that produces ebook editions of public domain literature using modern typography, technology, and editorial standards, and distributes them free of cost. You can download this and other ebooks carefully produced for true book lovers at standardebooks.org. Preface On the northern shore of Sicily are still to be seen the magnificent remains of a castle, which formerly belonged to the noble house of Mazzini. It stands in the centre of a small bay, and upon a gentle acclivity, which, on one side, slopes towards the sea, and on the other rises into an eminence crowned by dark woods. The situation is admirably beautiful and picturesque, and the ruins have an air of ancient grandeur, which, contrasted with the present solitude of the scene, impresses the traveller with awe and curiosity. During my travels abroad I visited this spot. As I walked over the loose fragments of stone, which lay scattered through the immense area of the fabrick, and surveyed the sublimity and grandeur of the ruins, I recurred, by a natural association of ideas, to the times when these walls stood proudly in their original splendour, when the halls were the scenes of hospitality and festive magnificence, and when they resounded with the voices of those whom death had long since swept from the earth. Thus, said I, shall the present generationhe who now sinks in miseryand he who now swims in pleasure, alike pass away and be forgotten. My heart swelled with the reflection; and, as I turned from the scene with a sigh, I fixed my eyes upon a friar, whose venerable figure, gently bending towards the earth, formed no uninteresting object in the picture. He observed my emotion; and, as my eye met his, shook his head and pointed to the ruin. These walls, said he, were once the seat of luxury and vice. They exhibited a singular instance of the retribution of Heaven, and were from that period forsaken, and abandoned to decay. His words excited my curiosity, and I enquired further concerning their meaning. A solemn history belongs to this castle, said he, which is too long and intricate for me to relate. It is, however, contained in a manuscript in our library, of which I could, perhaps, procure you a sight. A brother of our order, a descendant of the noble house of Mazzini, collected and recorded the most striking incidents relating to his family, and the history thus formed, he left as a legacy to our convent. If you please, we will walk thither. I accompanied him to the convent, and the friar introduced me to his superior, a man of an intelligent mind and benevolent heart, with whom I passed some hours in interesting conversation. I believe my sentiments pleased him; for, by his indulgence, I was permitted to take abstracts of the history before me, which, with some further particulars obtained in conversation with the Abate, I have arranged in the following pages. A Sicilian Romance By Ann Radcliffe. Uncopyright May you do good and not evil. May you find forgiveness for yourself and forgive others. May you share freely, never taking more than you give. Copyright pages exist to tell you that you cant do something. Unlike them, this Uncopyright page exists to tell you that the writing and artwork in this ebook are believed to be in the United States public domain; that is, they are believed to be free of copyright restrictions in the United States. The United States public domain represents our collective cultural heritage, and items in it are free for anyone in the United States to do almost anything at all with, without having to get permission. Copyright laws are different all over the world, and the source text or artwork in this ebook may still be copyrighted in other countries. If youre not located in the United States, you must check your local laws before using this ebook. Standard Ebooks makes no representations regarding the copyright status of the source text or artwork in this ebook in any country other than the United States. Nonauthorship activities performed on items that are in the public domainsocalled sweat of the brow workdont create a new copyright. That means that nobody can claim a new copyright on an item that is in the public domain for, among other things, work like digitization, markup, or typography. Regardless, the contributors to this ebook release their contributions under the terms in the CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication, thus dedicating to the worldwide public domain all of the work theyve done on this ebook, including but not limited to metadata, the titlepage, imprint, colophon, this Uncopyright, and any changes or enhancements to, or markup on, the original text and artwork. This dedication doesnt change the copyright status of the source text or artwork. We make this dedication in the interest of enriching our global cultural heritage, to promote free and libre culture around the world, and to give back to the unrestricted culture that has given all of us so much. Table of Contents Titlepage Imprint Preface A Sicilian Romance I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI Colophon Uncopyright Landmarks A Sicilian Romance


THE HAUNTED BARONET BY SHERIDAN LE FANU 1871 The Haunted Baronet by Sheridan Le Fanu. This edition was created and published by Global Grey GlobalGrey 2019 globalgreyebooks.com Contents Chapter 1. The George and Dragon Chapter 2. The Drowned Woman Chapter 3. Philip Feltram Chapter 4. The Baronet Appears Chapter 5. Mrs. Julapers Room Chapter 6. The Intruder Chapter 7. The Bank Note Chapter 8. Feltrams Plan Chapter 9. The Crazy Parson Chapter 10. Adventure in Tom Marlins Boat Chapter 11. Sir Bales Dream Chapter 12. Marcella Bligh and Judith Wale Keep Watch Chapter 13. The Mist on the Mountain Chapter 14. A New Philip Feltram Chapter 15. The Purse of Gold Chapter 16. The Message from Cloostedd Chapter 17. On the Course  Beeswing, Falcon, and Lightning Chapter 18. On the Lake, at Last Chapter 19. Mystagogus Chapter 20. The Haunted Forest Chapter 21. Rindermere Chapter 22. Sir Bale is Frightened Chapter 23. A Lady in Black Chapter 24. An Old Portrait Chapter 25. Through the Wall Chapter 26. Perplexed Chapter 27. The Hour Chapter 28. Sir Bale in the Gallery Chapter 29. Dr. Torveys Opinion Chapter 30. Hush! Chapter 1. The George and Dragon The pretty little town of Golden Friars  standing by the margin of the lake, hemmed round by an amphitheatre of purple mountain, rich in tint and furrowed by ravines, high in air, when the tall gables and narrow windows of its ancient graystone houses, and the tower of the old church, from which every evening the curfew still rings, show like silver in the moonbeams, and the black elms that stand round throw moveless shadows upon the short level grass  is one of the most singular and beautiful sights I have ever seen. There it rises, as from the stroke of the enchanters wand, looking so light and filmy, that you could scarcely believe it more than a picture reflected on the thin mist of night. On such a still summer night the moon shone splendidly upon the front of the George and Dragon, the comfortable graystone inn of Golden Friars, with the grandest specimen of the old innsign, perhaps, left in England. It looks right across the lake; the road that skirts its margin running by the steps of the halldoor, opposite to which, at the other side of the road, between two great posts, and framed in a fanciful wroughtiron border splendid with gilding, swings the famous sign of St. George and the Dragon, gorgeous with colour and gold. In the great room of the George and Dragon, three or four of the old habitus of that cozy lounge were refreshing a little after the fatigues of the day. This is a comfortable chamber, with an oak wainscot; and whenever in summer months the air is sharp enough, as on the present occasion, a fire helped to light it up; which fire, being chiefly wood, made a pleasant broad flicker on panel and ceiling, and yet did not make the room too hot. On one side sat Doctor Torvey, the doctor of Golden Friars, who knew the weak point of every man in the town, and what medicine agreed with each inhabitant  a fat gentleman, with a jolly laugh and an appetite for all sorts of news, big and little, and who liked a pipe, and made a tumbler of punch at about this hour, with a bit of lemonpeel in it. Beside him sat William Peers, a thin old gentleman, who had lived for more than thirty years in India, and was quiet and benevolent, and the last man in Golden Friars who wore a pigtail. Old Jack Amerald, an excaptain of the navy, with his short stout leg on a chair, and its wooden companion beside it, sipped his grog, and bawled in the oldfashioned navy way, and called his friends his hearties. In the middle, opposite the hearth, sat deaf Tom Hollar, always placid, and smoked his pipe, looking serenely at the fire. And the landlord of the George and Dragon every now and then strutted in, and sat down in the highbacked wooden armchair, according to the oldfashioned republican ways of the place, and took his share in the talk gravely, and was heartily welcome. And so Sir Bale is coming home at last, said the Doctor. Tell us any more you heard since. Nothing, answered Richard Turnbull, the host of the George. Nothing to speak of; only tis certain sure, and so best; the old house wont look so dowly now. Twyne says the estate owes a good capful o money by this time, hey? said the Doctor, lowering his voice and winking. Weel, they do say hes been nout at dow. I dont mind saying so to you, mind, sir, where alls friends together; but hell get that right in time. More like to save here than where he is, said the Doctor with another grave nod. He does very wisely, said Mr. Peers, having blown out a thin stream of smoke, and creditably, to pullup in time. Hes coming here to save a little, and perhaps hell marry; and it is the more creditable, if, as they say, he dislikes the place, and would prefer staying where he is. And having spoken thus gently, Mr. Peers resumed his pipe cheerfully. No, he dont like the place; that is, Im told he didnt, said the innkeeper. He hates it, said the Doctor with another dark nod. And no wonder, if alls true Ive heard, cried old Jack Amerald. Didnt he drown a woman and her child in the lake? Hollo! my dear boy, dont let them hear you say that; youre all in the clouds. By Jen! exclaimed the landlord after an alarmed silence, with his mouth and eyes open, and his pipe in his hand, why, sir, I pay rent for the house up there. Im thankful  dear knows, I am thankful  were all to ourselves! Jack Amerald put his foot on the floor, leaving his wooden leg in its horizontal position, and looked round a little curiously. Well, if it wasnt him, it was some one else. Im sure it happened up at Mardykes. I took the bearings on the water myself from Glads Scaur to Mardykes Jetty, and from the George and Dragon sign down here  down to the white house under Forrick Fells. I could fix a buoy over the very spot. Some one here told me the bearings, Id take my oath, where the body was seen; and yet no boat could ever come up with it; and that was queer, you know, so I clapt it down in my log. Ay, sir, there was some flummery like that, Captain, said Turnbull; for folk will be gabbin. But twas his grandsire was talked o, not him; and twould play the hangment wi me doun here, if twas thought there was stories like that passin in the George and Dragon. Well, his grandfather; twas all one to him, I take it. There never was no proof, Captain, no more than smoke; and the family up at Mardykes wouldnt allow the king to talk o them like that, sir; for though they be lang deod that had most right to be angered in the matter, theres none o the name but would be half daft to think twas still believed, and he full out as mich as any. Not that I need care more than another, though they do say hes a bit frowsy and shortwaisted; for he cant shouther me out o the George while I pay my rent, till nine hundred and ninetynine year be rin oot; and a man, be he neer sa het, has time to cool before then. But theres no good quarrellin wi teathy folk; and it may lie in his way to do the George mony an ill turn, and mony a gude one; an its only fair to say it happened a long way before he was born, and theres no good in vexin him; and I lay ye a pound, Captain, the Doctor hods wi me. The Doctor, whose business was also sensitive, nodded; and then he said, But for all that, the storys old, Dick Turnbull  older than you or I, my jolly good friend. And best forgotten, interposed the host of the George. Ay, best forgotten; but that its not like to be, said the Doctor, plucking up courage. Heres our friend the Captain has heard it; and the mistake he has made shows theres one thing worse than its being quite remembered, and that is, its being half remembered. We cant stop people talking; and a story like that will see us all off the hooks, and be in folks mouths, still, as strong as ever. Ay; and now I think on it, twas Dick Harman that has the boat down there  an old tar like myself  that told me that yarn. I was trying for pike, and he pulled me over the place, and thats how I came to hear it. I say, Tom, my hearty, serve us out another glass of brandy, will you? shouted the Captains voice as the waiter crossed the room; and that florid and grizzled naval hero clapped his leg again on the chair by its wooden companion, which he was wont to call his jurymast. Well, I do believe it will be spoke of longer than we are like to hear, said the host, and I dont much matter the story, if it baint told o the wrong man. Here he touched his tumbler with the spoon, indicating by that little ring that Tom, who had returned with the Captains grog, was to replenish it with punch. And Sir Bale is like to be a friend to this house. I dont see no reason why he shouldnt. The George and Dragon has bin in our family ever since the reign of King Charles the Second. It was William Turnbull in that time, which they called it the Restoration, he taking the lease from Sir Tony Mardykes that was then. They was but knights then. They was made baronets first in the reign of King George the Second; you may see it in the list of baronets and the nobility. The lease was made to William Turnbull, which came from London; and he built the stables, which they was out o repair, as you may read to this day in the lease; and the house has never had but one sign since  the George and Dragon, it is pretty well known in England  and one name to its master. It has been owned by a Turnbull from that day to this, and they have not been counted bad men. A murmur of applause testified the assent of his guests. They has been steady churchgoin folk, and brewed good drink, and maintained the best o characters, hereaways and farther off too, though tis I, Richard Turnbull, that says it; and while they pay their rent, no man has power to put them out; for their titles as good to the George and Dragon, and the two fields, and the croft, and the grazing o their kye on the green, as Sir Bale Mardykes to the Hall up there and estate. So tis nout to me, except in the way o friendliness, what the family may think o me; only the George and they has always been kind and friendly, and I dont want to break the old custom. Well said, Dick! exclaimed Doctor Torvey; I own to your conclusion; but there aint a soul here but ourselves  and were all friends, and you are your own master  and, hang it, youll tell us that story about the drowned woman, as you heard it from your father long ago. Ay, do, and keep us to our liquor, my hearty! cried the Captain. Mr. Peers looked his entreaty; and deaf Mr. Hollar, having no interest in the petition, was at least a safe witness, and, with his pipe in his lips, a cozy piece of furniture. Richard Turnbull had his punch beside him; he looked over his shoulder. The door was closed, the fire was cheery, and the punch was fragrant, and all friendly faces about him. So said he Gentlemen, as youre pleased to wish it, I dont see no great harm in it; and at any rate, twill prevent mistakes. It is more than ninety years since. My father was but a boy then; and many a time I have heard him tell it in this very room. And looking into his glass he mused, and stirred his punch slowly. Chapter 2. The Drowned Woman It aint much of a homminy, said the host of the George. Ill not keep you long over it, gentlemen. There was a handsome young lady, Miss Mary Feltram o Cloostedd by name. She was the last o that family; and had gone very poor. Theres but the walls o the house left now; grass growing in the hall, and ivy over the gables; theres no one livin has ever hard tell o smoke out o they chimblies. It stands on tother side o the lake, on the level wi a deal o aad trees behint and aside it at the gap o the clough, under the pike o Maiden Fells. Ye may see it wi a spyinglass from the boatbield at Mardykes Hall. Ive been there fifty times, said the Doctor. Well there was dealins betwixt the two families; and theres good and bad in every family; but the Mardykes, in them days, was a wild lot. And when old Feltram o Cloostedd died, and the young lady his daughter was left a ward o Sir Jasper Mardykes  an ill day for her, poor lass!  twenty year older than her he was, an more; and nothin about him, they say, to make anyone like or love him, illfaurd and little and dow. Dow  thats gloomy, Doctor Torvey instructed the Captain aside. But they do say, they has an old bludstean ring in the family that has a charm int; and happen how it might, the poor lass fell in love wi him. Some said they was married. Some said it hangd i the bellropes, and never had the priests blessing; but anyhow, married or no, there was talk enough amang the folk, and out o doors she would na budge. And there was two wee barns; and she prayed him hard to confess the marriage, poor thing! But twas a bootlese bene, and he would not allow they should bear his name, but their mothers; he was a hard man, and hed the bit in his teeth, and went his ain gait. And having tired of her, he took in his head to marry a lady of the Barnets, and it behoved him to be shut o her and her children; and so she nor them was seen no more at Mardykes Hall. And the eldest, a boy, was left in care of my grandfathers father here in the George. That queer Philip Feltram thats travelling with Sir Bale so long is a descendant of his? said the Doctor. Grandson, observed Mr. Peers, removing his pipe for a moment; and is the last of that stock. Well, no one could tell where she had gone to. Some said to distant parts, some said to the madhouse, some one thing, some another; but neither she nor the barn was ever seen or spoke to by the folk at Mardykes in life again. There was one Mr. Wigram that lived in them times down at Moultry, and had sarved, like the Captain here, in the kings navy in his day; and early of a morning down he comes to the town for a boat, sayin he was looking towards Snakes Island through his spyinglass, and he seen a woman about a hundred and fifty yards outside of it; the Captain here has heard the bearings right enough. From her hips upwards she was stark and straight out o the water, and a baby in her arms. Well, no one else could see it, nor he neither, when they went down to the boat. But next morning he saw the same thing, and the boatman saw it too; and they rowed for it, both pulling might and main; but after a mile or so they could see it no more, and gave over. The next that saw it was the vicar, I forget his name now  but he was up the lake to a funeral at Mortlock Church; and coming back with a bit of a sail up, just passin Snakes Island, what should they hear on a sudden but a wowl like a deathcry, shrill and bleak, as made the very blood hoot in their veins; and looking along the water not a hundred yards away, saw the same grizzled sight in the moonlight; so they turned the tiller, and came near enough to see her face  blea it was, and drenched wi water  and she was above the lake to her middle, stiff as a post, holdin the weeny barn out to them, and flyrin [smiling scornfully] on them as they drew nigh her. They were halffrighted, not knowing what to make of it; but passing as close as the boatman could bring her side, the vicar stretched over the gunwale to catch her, and she bent forward, pushing the dead bab forward; and as she did, on a sudden she gave a yelloch that scared them, and they saw her no more. Twas no livin woman, for she couldnt rise that height above the water, as they well knew when they came to think; and knew it was a dobby they saw; and ye may be sure they didnt spare prayer and blessin, and went on their course straight before the wind; for neither would atook the worth o all the Mardykes to look sich a freetin i the face again. Twas seen another time by marketfolk crossin fra Gyllenstan in the selfsame place; and Snakes Island got a bad neam, and none cared to go nar it after nightfall. Do you know anything of that Feltram that has been with him abroad? asked the Doctor. They say hes no good at anything  a harmless mafflin; he was a long gaumless gawky when he went awa, said Richard Turnbull. The Feltrams and the Mardykes was sib, ye know; and that made what passed in the misfortune o that young lady spoken of all the harder; and this young man ye speak of is a grandson o the lad that was put here in care o my grandfather. Greatgrandson. His father was grandson, said Mr. Peers; he held a commission in the army and died in the West Indies. This Philip Feltram is the last o that line  illegitimate, you know, it is held  and the little that remained of the Feltram property went nearly fourscore years ago to the Mardykes, and this Philip is maintained by Sir Bale; it is pleasant, notwithstanding all the stories one hears, gentlemen, that the only thing we know of him for certain should be so creditable to his kindness. To be sure, acquiesced Mr. Turnbull. While they talked the horn sounded, and the mailcoach drew up at the door of the George and Dragon to set down a passenger and his luggage. Dick Turnbull rose and went out to the hall with careful bustle, and Doctor Torvey followed as far as the door, which commanded a view of it, and saw several trunks cased in canvas pitched into the hall, and by careful Tom and a boy lifted one on top of the other, behind the corner of the banister. It would have been below the dignity of his cloth to go out and read the labels on these, or the Doctor would have done otherwise, so great was his curiosity. Chapter 3. Philip Feltram The new guest was now in the hall of the George, and Doctor Torvey could hear him talking with Mr. Turnbull. Being himself one of the dignitaries of Golden Friars, the Doctor, having regard to first impressions, did not care to be seen in his post of observation; and closing the door gently, returned to his chair by the fire, and in an undertone informed his cronies that there was a new arrival in the George, and he could not hear, but would not wonder if he were taking a private room; and he seemed to have trunks enough to build a church with. Dont be too sure we havent Sir Bale on board, said Amerald, who would have followed his crony the Doctor to the door  for never was retired naval hero of a village more curious than he  were it not that his wooden leg made a distinct pounding on the floor that was inimical, as experience had taught him, to mystery. That cant be, answered the Doctor; Charley Twyne knows everything about it, and has a letter every second day; and theres no chance of Sir Bale before the tenth; this is a tourist, youll find. I dont know what the devil keeps Turnbull; he knows well enough we are all naturally willing to hear who it is. Well, he wont trouble us here, I bet ye; and catching deaf Mr. Hollars eye, the Captain nodded, and pointed to the little table beside him, and made a gesture imitative of the rattling of a dicebox; at which that quiet old gentleman also nodded sunnily; and up got the Captain and conveyed the backgammonbox to the table, near Hollars elbow, and the two worthies were soon sincducing and catreacing, with the pleasant clatter that accompanies that ancient game. Hollar had thrown sizes and made his double point, and the honest Captain, who could stand many things better than Hollars throwing such throws so early in the evening, cursed his opponents luck and sneered at his play, and called the company to witness, with a distinctness which a stranger to smiling Hollars deafness would have thought hardly civil; and just at this moment the door opened, and Richard Turnbull showed his new guest into the room, and ushered him to a vacant seat near the other corner of the table before the fire. The stranger advanced slowly and shyly, with something a little deprecatory in his air, to which a lathy figure, a slight stoop, and a very gentle and even heartbroken look in his pale long face, gave a more marked character of shrinking and timidity. He thanked the landlord aside, as it were, and took his seat with a furtive glance round, as if he had no right to come in and intrude upon the happiness of these honest gentlemen. He saw the Captain scanning him from under his shaggy grey eyebrows while he was pretending to look only at his game; and the Doctor was able to recount to Mrs. Torvey when he went home every article of the strangers dress. It was odd and melancholy as his peaked face. He had come into the room with a short black cloak on, and a rather tall foreign felt hat, and a pair of shiny leather gaiters or leggings on his thin legs; and altogether presented a general resemblance to the conventional figure of Guy Fawkes. Not one of the company assembled knew the appearance of the Baronet. The Doctor and old Mr. Peers remembered something of his looks; and certainly they had no likeness, but the reverse, to those presented by the newcomer. The Baronet, as now described by people who had chanced to see him, was a dark man, not above the middle size, and with a certain decision in his air and talk; whereas this person was tall, pale, and in air and manner feeble. So this broken trader in the worlds commerce, with whom all seemed to have gone wrong, could not possibly be he. Presently, in one of his stealthy glances, the Doctors eye encountered that of the stranger, who was by this time drinking his tea  a thin and feminine liquor little used in that room. The stranger did not seem put out; and the Doctor, interpreting his look as a permission to converse, cleared his voice, and said urbanely, We have had a little frost by night, down here, sir, and a little fire is no great harm  it is rather pleasant, dont you think? The stranger bowed acquiescence with a transient wintry smile, and looked gratefully on the fire. This place is a good deal admired, sir, and people come a good way to see it; you have been here perhaps before? Many years ago. Here was another pause. Places change imperceptibly  in detail, at least  a good deal, said the Doctor, making an effort to keep up a conversation that plainly would not go on of itself; and people too; population shifts  theres an old fellow, sir, they call Death. And an old fellow they call the Doctor, that helps him, threw in the Captain humorously, allowing his attention to get entangled in the conversation, and treating them to one of his tempestuous hahahas. We are expecting the return of a gentleman who would be a very leading member of our little society down here, said the Doctor, not noticing the Captains joke. I mean Sir Bale Mardykes. Mardykes Hall is a pretty object from the water, sir, and a very fine old place. The melancholy stranger bowed slightly, but rather in courtesy to the relator, it seemed, than that the Doctors lore interested him much. And on the opposite side of the lake, continued Doctor Torvey, there is a building that contrasts very well with it  the old house of the Feltrams  quite a ruin now, at the mouth of the glen  Cloostedd House, a very picturesque object. Exactly opposite, said the stranger dreamily, but whether in the tone of acquiescence or interrogatory, the Doctor could not be quite sure. That was one of our great families down here that has disappeared. It has dwindled down to nothing. Duce ace, remarked Mr. Hollar, who was attending to his game. While others have mounted more suddenly and amazingly still, observed gentle Mr. Peers, who was great upon county genealogies. Sizes! thundered the Captain, thumping the table with an oath of disgust. And Snakes Island is a very pretty object; they say there used to be snakes there, said the Doctor, enlightening the visitor. Ah! thats a mistake, said the dejected guest, making his first original observation. It should be spelt Snaiks. In the old papers it is called Senaiks Island from the seven oaks that grew in a clump there. Hey? thats very curious, egad! I daresay, said the Doctor, set right thus by the stranger, and eyeing him curiously. Very true, sir, observed Mr. Peers; three of those oaks, though, two of them little better than stumps, are there still; and Clewson of Heckleston has an old document  Here, unhappily, the landlord entered the room in a fuss, and walking up to the stranger, said, The chaise is at the door, Mr. Feltram, and the trunks up, sir. Mr. Feltram rose quietly and took out his purse, and said, I suppose I had better pay at the bar? As you like best, sir, said Richard Turnbull. Mr. Feltram bowed all round to the gentlemen, who smiled, ducked or waved their hands; and the Doctor fussily followed him to the halldoor, and welcomed him back to Golden Friars  there was real kindness in this welcome  and proffered his broad brown hand, which Mr. Feltram took; and then he plunged into his chaise, and the door being shut, away he glided, chaise, horses, and driver, like shadows, by the margin of the moonlighted lake, towards Mardykes Hall. And after a few minutes stand upon the steps, looking along the shadowy track of the chaise, they returned to the glow of the room, in which a pleasant perfume of punch still prevailed; and beside Mr. Philip Feltrams deserted teathings, the host of the George enlightened his guests by communicating freely the little he had picked up. The principal fact he had to tell was, that Sir Bale adhered strictly to his original plan, and was to arrive on the tenth. A few days would bring them to that, and the ninedays wonder run its course and lose its interest. But in the meantime, all Golden Friars was anxious to see what Sir Bale Mardykes was like. Chapter 4. The Baronet Appears As the candles burn blue and the air smells of brimstone at the approach of the Evil One, so, in the quiet and healthy air of Golden Friars, a depressing and agitating influence announced the coming of the longabsent Baronet. From abroad, no good whatever had been at any time heard of him, and a great deal that was, in the ears of simple folk living in that unsophisticated part of the world, vaguely awful. Stories that travel so far, however, lose something of their authority, as well as definiteness, on the way; there was always room for charity to suggest a mistake or exaggeration; and if good men turned up their hands and eyes after a new story, and ladies of experience, who knew mankind, held their heads high and looked grim and mysterious at mention of his name, nevertheless an interval of silence softened matters a little, and the sulphureous perfume dissipated itself in time. Now that Sir Bale Mardykes had arrived at the Hall, there were hurried consultations held in many households. And though he was tried and sentenced by drumhead over some austere hearths, as a rule the law of gravitation prevailed, and the greater house drew the lesser about it, and county people within the visiting radius paid their respects at the Hall. The Reverend Martin Bedel, the then vicar of Golden Friars, a stout short man, with a mulberrycoloured face and small gray eyes, and taciturn habits, called and entered the drawingroom at Mardykes Hall, with his fat and garrulous wife on his arm. The drawingroom has a great projecting Tudor window looking out on the lake, with its magnificent background of furrowed and purple mountains. Sir Bale was not there, and Mrs. Bedel examined the pictures, and ornaments, and the books, making such remarks as she saw fit; and then she looked out of the window, and admired the prospect. She wished to stand well with the Baronet, and was in a mood to praise everything. You may suppose she was curious to see him, having heard for years such strange tales of his doings. She expected the hero of a brilliant and wicked romance; and listened for the step of the truant Lovelace who was to fulfil her idea of manly beauty and fascination. She sustained a slight shock when he did appear. Sir Bale Mardykes was, as she might easily have remembered, a middleaged man  and he looked it. He was not even an imposinglooking man for his time of life he was of about the middle height, slightly made, and dark featured. She had expected something of the gaiety and animation of Versailles, and an evident cultivation of the art of pleasing. What she did see was a remarkable gravity, not to say gloom, of countenance  the only feature of which that struck her being a pair of large darkgray eyes, that were cold and earnest. His manners had the ease of perfect confidence; and his talk and air were those of a person who might have known how to please, if it were worth the trouble, but who did not care twopence whether he pleased or not. He made them each a bow, courtly enough, but there was no smile  not even an affectation of cordiality. Sir Bale, however, was chatty, and did not seem to care much what he said, or what people thought of him; and there was a suspicion of sarcasm in what he said that the rustic literality of good Mrs. Bedel did not always detect. I believe I have not a clergyman but you, sir, within any reasonable distance? Golden Friars is the nearest, said Mrs. Bedel, answering, as was her pleasure on all practicable occasions, for her husband. And southwards, the nearest is Wyllarden  and by a birds flight that is thirteen miles and a half, and by the road more than nineteen  twenty, I may say, by the road. Ha, ha, ha! it is a long way to look for a clergyman. Twenty miles of road to carry you thirteen miles across, hey? The roadmakers lead you a pretty dance here; those gentlemen know how to make money, and like to show people the scenery from a variety of points. No one likes a straight road but the man who pays for it, or who, when he travels, is brute enough to wish to get to his journeys end. That is so true, Sir Bale; one never cares if one is not in a hurry. Thats what Martin thinks  dont we, Martin?  And then, you know, coming home is the time you are in a hurry  when you are thinking of your cup of tea and the children; and then, you know, you have the fall of the ground all in your favour. Its well to have anything in your favour in this place. And so there are children? A good many, said Mrs. Bedel, with a proud and mysterious smile, and a nod; you wouldnt guess how many. Not I; I only wonder you did not bring them all. Thats very goodnatured of you, Sir Bale, but all could not come at one bout; there are  tell him, Martin  ha, ha, ha! there are eleven. It must be very cheerful down at the vicarage, said Sir Bale graciously; and turning to the vicar he added, But how unequally blessings are divided! You have eleven, and I not one  that Im aware of. And then, in that direction straight before you, you have the lake, and then the fells; and five miles from the foot of the mountain at the other side, before you reach Fottrell  and that is twentyfive miles by the road  Dear me! how far apart they are set! My gardener told me this morning that asparagus grows very thinly in this part of the world. How thinly clergymen grow also down here  in one sense, he added politely, for the vicar was stout. We were looking out of the window  we amused ourselves that way before you came  and your view is certainly the very best anywhere round this side; your view of the lake and the fells  what mountains they are, Sir Bale! Pon my soul, they are! I wish I could blow them asunder with a charge of duckshot, and I shouldnt be stifled by them long. But I suppose, as we cant get rid of them, the next best thing is to admire them. We are pretty well married to them, and there is no use in quarrelling. I know you dont think so, Sir Bale, ha, ha, ha! You wouldnt take a good deal and spoil Mardykes Hall. You cant get a mouthful or air, or see the sun of a morning, for those frightful mountains, he said with a peevish frown at them. Well, the lake at all events  that you must admire, Sir Bale? No maam, I dont admire the lake. Id drain the lake if I could  I hate the lake. Theres nothing so gloomy as a lake pent up among barren mountains.


I cant conceive what possessed my people to build our house down here, at the edge of a lake; unless it was the fish, and precious fish it is  pike! I dont know how people digest it  I cant. Id as soon think of eating a watchmans pike. I thought that having travelled so much abroad, you would have acquired a great liking for that kind of scenery, Sir Bale; there is a great deal of it on the Continent, aint there? said Mrs. Bedel. And the boating. Boating, my dear Mrs. Bedel, is the dullest of all things; dont you think so? Because a boat looks very pretty from the shore, we fancy the shore must look very pretty from a boat; and when we try it, we find we have only got down into a pit and can see nothing rightly. For my part I hate boating, and I hate the water; and Id rather have my house, like Haworth, at the edge of a moss, with good wholesome peat to look at, and an open horizon  savage and stupid and bleak as all that is  than be suffocated among impassable mountains, or upset in a black lake and drowned like a kitten. O, theres luncheon in the next room; wont you take some? Chapter 5. Mrs. Julapers Room Sir Bale Mardykes being now established in his ancestral house, people had time to form conclusions respecting him. It must be allowed he was not popular. There was, perhaps, in his conduct something of the caprice of contempt. At all events his temper and conduct were uncertain, and his moods sometimes violent and insulting. With respect to but one person was his conduct uniform, and that was Philip Feltram. He was a sort of aidedecamp near Sir Bales person, and chargeable with all the commissions and offices which could not be suitably intrusted to a mere servant. But in many respects he was treated worse than any servant of the Baronets. Sir Bale swore at him, and cursed him; laid the blame of everything that went wrong in house, stable, or field upon his shoulders; railed at him, and used him, as people said, worse than a dog. Why did Feltram endure this contumelious life? What could he do but endure it? was the answer. What was the power that induced strong soldiers to put off their jackets and shirts, and present their hands to be tied up, and tortured for hours, it might be, under the scourge, with an air of ready volition? The moral coercion of despair; the result of an unconscious calculation of chances which satisfies them that it is ultimately better to do all that, bad as it is, than try the alternative. These unconscious calculations are going on every day with each of us, and the results embody themselves in our lives; and no one knows that there has been a process and a balance struck, and that what they see, and very likely blame, is by the fiat of an invisible but quite irresistible power. A man of spirit would rather break stones on the highway than eat that bitter bread, was the burden of every mans song on Feltrams bondage. But he was not so sure that even the stonebreakers employment was open to him, or that he could break stones well enough to retain it on a fair trial. And he had other ideas of providing for himself, and a different alternative in his mind. Goodnatured Mrs. Julaper, the old housekeeper at Mardykes Hall, was kind to Feltram, as to all others who lay in her way and were in affliction. She was one of those good women whom Nature provides to receive the burden of other peoples secrets, as the reeds did long ago, only that no chance wind could steal them away, and send them singing into strange ears. You may still see her snuggery in Mardykes Hall, though the housekeepers room is now in a different part of the house. Mrs. Julapers room was in the oldest quarter of that old house. It was wainscoted, in black panels, up to the ceiling, which was stuccoed over in the fanciful diagrams of James the Firsts time. Several dingy portraits, banished from time to time from other statelier rooms, found a temporary abode in this quiet spot, where they had come finally to settle and drop out of remembrance. There is a lady in white satin and a ruff; a gentleman whose legs have faded out of view, with a peaked beard, and a hawk on his wrist. There is another in a black periwig lost in the dark background, and with a steel cuirass, the gleam of which out of the darkness strikes the eye, and a scarf is dimly discoverable across it. This is that foolish Sir Guy Mardykes, who crossed the Border and joined Dundee, and was shot through the temple at Killiecrankie and whom more prudent and whiggish scions of the Mardykes family removed forthwith from his place in the Hall, and found a retirement here, from which he has not since emerged. At the far end of this snug room is a second door, on opening which you find yourself looking down upon the great kitchen, with a little balcony before you, from which the housekeeper used to issue her commands to the cook, and exercise a sovereign supervision. There is a shelf on which Mrs Julaper had her Bible, her Whole Duty of Man, and her Pilgrims Progress; and, in a file beside them, her books of housewifery, and among them volumes of MS. recipes, cookerybooks, and some too on surgery and medicine, as practised by the Ladies Bountiful of the Elizabethan age, for which an antiquarian would nowadays give an eye or a hand. Gentle halffoolish Philip Feltram would tell the story of his wrongs, and weep and wish he was dead; and kind Mrs. Julaper, who remembered him a child, would comfort him with cold pie and cherrybrandy, or a cup of coffee, or some little dainty. O, maam, Im tired of my life. Whats the good of living, if a poor devil is never let alone, and called worse names than a dog? Would not it be better, Mrs. Julaper, to be dead? Wouldnt it be better, maam? I think so; I think it night and day. Im always thinking the same thing. I dont care, Ill just tell him what I think, and have it off my mind. Ill tell him I cant live and bear it longer. There now, dont you be frettin; but just sip this, and remember youre not to judge a friend by a wry word. He does not mean it, not he. They all had a rough side to their tongue now and again; but no one minded that. I dont, nor you neednt, no more than other folk; for the tongue, be it never so bitin, it cant draw blood, mind ye, and hard words break no bones; and Ill make a cup o tea  ye like a cup o tea  and well take a cup together, and yell chirp up a bit, and see how pleasant and ruddy the sun shines on the lake this evening. She was patting him gently on the shoulder, as she stood slim and stiff in her dark silk by his chair, and her rosy little face smiled down on him. She was, for an old woman, wonderfully pretty still. What a delicate skin she must have had! The wrinkles were etched upon it with so fine a needle, you scarcely could see them a little way off; and as she smiled her cheeks looked fresh and smooth as two ruddy little apples. Look out, I say, and she nodded towards the window, deep set in the thick wall. See how bright and soft everything looks in that pleasant light; thats better, child, than the finest picture mans hand ever painted yet, and God gives it us for nothing; and how pretty Snakes Island glows up in that light! The dejected man, hardly raising his head, followed with his eyes the glance of the old woman, and looked mournfully through the window. That island troubles me, Mrs. Julaper. Everything troubles you, my poor goosecap. Ill pull your lug for ye, child, if ye be so dowly; and with a mimic pluck the goodnatured old housekeeper pinched his ear and laughed. Ill go to the stillroom now, where the waters boiling, and Ill make a cup of tea; and if I find ye so dow when I come back, Ill throw it all out o the window, mind. It was indeed a beautiful picture that Feltram saw in its deep frame of old masonry. The near part of the lake was flushed all over with the low western light; the more distant waters lay dark in the shadow of the mountains; and against this shadow of purple the rocks on Snakes Island, illuminated by the setting sun, started into sharp clear yellow. But this beautiful view had no charm  at least, none powerful enough to master the latent horror associated with its prettiest feature  for the weak and dismal man who was looking at it; and being now alone, he rose and leant on the window, and looked out, and then with a kind of shudder clutching his hands together, and walking distractedly about the room. Without his perceiving, while his back was turned, the housekeeper came back; and seeing him walking in this distracted way, she thought to herself, as he leant again upon the window Well, it is a burning shame to worrit any poor soul into that state. Sir Bale was always down on someone or something, man or beast; there always was something he hated, and could never let alone. It was not pretty; it was his nature. Happen, poor fellow, he could not help it; but so it was. A maid came in and set the teathings down; and Mrs. Julaper drew her sad guest over by the arm, and made him sit down, and she said What has a man to do, frettin in that way? By Jen, Im ashamed o ye, Master Philip! Ye like three lumps o sugar, I think, and  look cheerful, ye must!  a good deal o cream? Youre so kind, Mrs. Julaper, youre so cheery. I feel quite comfortable after awhile when Im with you; I feel quite happy, and he began to cry. She understood him very well by this time and took no notice, but went on chatting gaily, and made his tea as he liked it; and he dried his tears hastily, thinking she had not observed. So the clouds began to clear. This innocent fellow liked nothing better than a cup of tea and a chat with gentle and cheery old Mrs. Julaper, and a talk in which the shadowy old times which he remembered as a child emerged into sunlight and lived again. When he began to feel better, drawn into the kindly old times by the tinkle of that harmless old womans tongue, he said I sometimes think I would not so much mind  I should not care so much  if my spirits were not so depressed, and I so agitated. I suppose I am not quite well. Well, tell me whats wrong, child, and its odd but I have a recipe on the shelf there that will do you good. It is not a matter of that sort I mean; though Id rather have you than any doctor, if I needed medicine, to prescribe for me. Mrs. Julaper smiled in spite of herself, well pleased; for her skill in pharmacy was a point on which the good lady prided herself, and was open to flattery, which, without intending it, the simple fellow administered. No, Im well enough; I cant say I ever was better. It is only, maam, that I have such dreams  you have no idea. There are dreams and dreams, my dear theres some signifies no more than the babble of the lake down there on the pebbles, and theres others that has a meaning; theres dreams that is but vanity, and theres dreams that is good, and dreams that is bad. Lady Mardykes  heavens be her bed this day! thats his grandmother I mean  was very sharp for reading dreams. Take another cup of tea. Dear me! what a noise the crows keep aboon our heads, going home! and how high they wing it!  thats a sure sign of fine weather. An what do you dream about? Tell me your dream, and I may show you its a good one, after all. For many a dream is ugly to see and ugly to tell, and a good dream, with a happy meaning, for all that. Chapter 6. The Intruder Well, Mrs. Julaper, dreams Ive dreamed like other people, old and young; but this, maam, has taken a fast hold of me, said Mr. Feltram dejectedly, leaning back in his chair and looking down with his hands in his pockets. I think, Mrs. Julaper, it is getting into me. I think its like possession. Possession, child! what do you mean? I think there is something trying to influence me. Perhaps it is the way fellows go mad; but it wont let me alone. Ive seen it three times, think of that! Well, dear, and what have ye seen? she asked, with an uneasy cheerfulness, smiling, with eyes fixed steadily upon him; for the idea of a madman  even gentle Philip in that state  was not quieting. Do you remember the picture, fulllength, that had no frame  the lady in the whitesatin saque  she was beautiful, funeste, he added, talking more to himself; and then more distinctly to Mrs. Julaper again in the whitesatin saque; and with the little mob cap and blue ribbons to it, and a bouquet in her fingers; that was  that  you know who she was? That was your greatgrandmother, my dear, said Mrs. Julaper, lowering her eyes. It was a dreadful pity it was spoiled. The boys in the pantry had it for a year there on the table for a tray, to wash the glasses on and the like. It was a shame; that was the prettiest picture in the house, with the gentlest, rosiest face. It aint so gentle or rosy now, I can tell you, said Philip. As fixed as marble; with thin lips, and a curve at the nostril. Do you remember the woman that was found dead in the clough, when I was a boy, that the gipsies murdered, it was thought  a cruellooking woman? Agoy! Master Philip, dear! ye would not name that terriblelooking creature with the pretty, fresh, kindly face! Faces change, you see; no matter what shes like; its her talk that frightens me. She wants to make use of me; and, you see, it is like getting a share in my mind, and a voice in my thoughts, and a command over me gradually; and it is just one idea, as straight as a line of light across the lake  see what shes come to. O Lord, help me! Well, now, dont you be talkin like that. It is just a little bit dowly and troubled, because the master says a wry word now and then; and so ye let your spirits go down, dont ye see, and all sorts o fancies comes into your head. Theres no fancy in my head, he said with a quick look of suspicion; only you asked me what I dreamed. I dont care if all the world knew. I dreamed I went down a flight of steps under the lake, and got a message. There are no steps near Snakes Island, we all know that, and he laughed chillily. Im out of spirits, as you say; and  and  O dear! I wish  Mrs. Julaper  I wish I was in my coffin, and quiet. Now thats very wrong of you, Master Philip; you should think of all the blessings you have, and not be makin mountains o molehills; and those little bits o temper Sir Bale shows, why, no one minds emthat is, to take em to heart like you do, dont ye see? I daresay; I suppose, Mrs. Julaper, you are right. Im unreasonable often, I know, said gentle Philip Feltram. I daresay I make too much of it; Ill try. Im his secretary, and I know Im not so bright as he is, and it is natural he should sometimes be a little impatient; I ought to be more reasonable, Im sure. It is all that thing that has been disturbing me  I mean fretting, and, I think, Im not quite well; and  and letting myself think too much of vexations. Its my own fault, Im sure, Mrs. Julaper; and I know Im to blame. Thats quite right, thats spoken like a wise lad; only I dont say youre to blame, nor no one; for folk cant help frettin sometimes, no more than they can help a headache  none but a mafflin would say that  and Ill not deny but he has dowly ways when the fits on him, and he frumps us all round, if such be his humour. But who is there hasnt his faults? We must bear and forbear, and take what we get and be cheerful. So chirp up, my lad; Philip, didnt I often ring the ad rhyme in your ear long ago? Be always as merry as ever you can,For no one delights in a sorrowful man. So dont ye be gettin up off your chair like that, and tramping about the room wi your hands in your pockets, looking out o this window, and staring out o that, and sighing and crying, and looking so blackoxtrodden, twould break a bodys heart to see you. Ye must be cheery; and happen youre hungry, and dont know it. Ill tell the cook to grill a hot bit for ye. But Im not hungry, Mrs. Julaper. How kind you are! dear me, Mrs. Julaper, Im not worthy of it; I dont deserve half your kindness. Id have been heartbroken long ago, but for you. And Ill make a sup of something hot for you; youll take a rummerglass of punch  you must. But I like the tea better; I do, indeed, Mrs. Julaper. Tea is no drink for a man when his hearts down. It should be something with a leg in it, lad; something hot that will warm your courage for ye, and set your blood adancing, and make ye talk brave and merry; and will you have a bit of a broil first? No? Well then, youll have a drop o punch?  ye shant say no. And so, all resistance overpowered, the consolation of Philip Feltram proceeded. A gentler spirit than poor Feltram, a more goodnatured soul than the old housekeeper, were nowhere among the children of earth. Philip Feltram, who was reserved enough elsewhere, used to come into her room and cry, and take her by both hands piteously, standing before her and looking down in her face, while tears ran deviously down his cheeks. Did you ever know such a case? was there ever a fellow like me? did you ever know such a thing? You know what I am, Mrs. Julaper, and who I am. They call me Feltram; but Sir Bale knows as well as I that my true name is not that. Im Philip Mardykes; and another fellow would make a row about it, and claim his name and his rights, as she is always croaking in my ear I ought. But you know that is not reasonable. My grandmother was married; she was the true Lady Mardykes; think what it was to see a woman like that turned out of doors, and her children robbed of their name. O, maam, you cant think it; unless you were me, you couldnt  you couldnt  you couldnt! Come, come, Master Philip, dont you be taking on so; and ye mustnt be talking like that, dye mind? You know he wouldnt stand that; and its an old story now, and theres naught can be proved concerning it; and what I think is this  I wouldnt wonder the poor lady was beguiled. But anyhow she surely thought she was his lawful wife; and though the law may hev found a flaw somewhere  and I take it twas so  yet sure I am she was an honourable lady. But wheres the use of stirring that old sorrow? or how can ye prove aught? and the dead hold their peace, you know; dead mice, they say, feels no cold; and dead folks are past fooling. So dont you talk like that; for stone walls have ears, and ye might say that ye couldnt unsay; and deaths day is dooms day. So leave all in the keeping of God; and, above all, never lift hand when ye cant strike. Lift my hand! O, Mrs. Julaper, you couldnt think that; you little know me; I did not mean that; I never dreamed of hurting Sir Bale. Good heavens! Mrs. Julaper, you couldnt think that! It all comes of my poor impatient temper, and complaining as I do, and my misery; but O, Mrs. Julaper, you could not think I ever meant to trouble him by law, or any other annoyance! Id like to see a stain removed from my family, and my name restored; but to touch his property, O, no!  O, no! that never entered my mind, by heaven! that never entered my mind, Mrs. Julaper. Im not cruel; Im not rapacious; I dont care for money; dont you know that, Mrs. Julaper? O, surely you wont think me capable of attacking the man whose bread I have eaten so long! I never dreamed of it; I should hate myself. Tell me you dont believe it; O, Mrs. Julaper, say you dont! And the gentle feeble creature burst into tears and good Mrs. Julaper comforted him with kind words; and he said, Thank you, maam; thank you. God knows I would not hurt Bale, nor give him one uneasy hour. It is only this that Im  Im so miserable; and Im only casting in my mind where to turn to, and what to do. So little a thing would be enough, and then I shall leave Mardykes. Ill go; not in any anger, Mrs. Julaper  dont think that; but I cant stay, I must be gone. Well, now, theres nothing yet, Master Philip, to fret you like that. You should not be talking so wildlike. Master Bale has his sharp word and his short temper now and again; but Im sure he likes you. If he didnt, hed asaid so to me long ago. Im sure he likes you well. Hollo! I say, whos there? Where the devils Mr. Feltram? called the voice of the baronet, at a fierce pitch, along the passage. La! Mr. Feltram, its him! Yed better run to him, whispered Mrs. Julaper. Damn me! does nobody hear? Mrs. Julaper! Hollo! ho! house, there! ho! Damn me, will nobody answer? And Sir Bale began to slap the wainscot fast and furiously with his walkingcane with a clatter like a harlequins lath in a pantomime. Mrs. Julaper, a little paler than usual, opened her door, and stood with the handle in her hand, making a little curtsey, enframed in the doorcase; and Sir Bale, being in a fume, when he saw her, ceased whacking the panels of the corridor, and stamped on the floor, crying, Upon my soul, maam, Im glad to see you! Perhaps you can tell me where Feltram is? He is in my room, Sir Bale. Shall I tell him you want him, please? Never mind; thanks, said the Baronet. Ive a tongue in my head; marching down the passage to the housekeepers room, with his cane clutched hard, glaring savagely, and with his teeth fast set, like a fellow advancing to beat a vicious horse that has chafed his temper. Chapter 7. The Bank Note Sir Bale brushed by the housekeeper as he strode into her sanctuary, and there found Philip Feltram awaiting him dejectedly, but with no signs of agitation. If one were to judge by the appearance the master of Mardykes presented, very grave surmises as to impending violence would have suggested themselves; but though he clutched his cane so hard that it quivered in his grasp, he had no notion of committing the outrage of a blow. The Baronet was unusually angry notwithstanding, and stopping short about three steps away, addressed Feltram with a pale face and gleaming eyes. It was quite plain that there was something very exciting upon his mind. Ive been looking for you, Mr. Feltram; I want a word or two, if you have done your  your  whatever it is. He whisked the point of his stick towards the modest teatray. I should like five minutes in the library. The Baronet was all this time eyeing Feltram with a hard suspicious gaze, as if he expected to read in his face the shrinkings and trepidations of guilt; and then turning suddenly on his heel he led the way to his library  a good long march, with a good many turnings. He walked very fast, and was not long in getting there. And as Sir Bale reached the hearth, on which was smouldering a great log of wood, and turned about suddenly, facing the door, Philip Feltram entered. The Baronet looked oddly and stern  so oddly, it seemed to Feltram, that he could not take his eyes off him, and returned his grim and somewhat embarrassed gaze with a stare of alarm and speculation. And so doing, his step was shortened, and grew slow and slower, and came quite to a stop before he had got far from the door  a wide stretch of that wide floor still intervening between him and Sir Bale, who stood upon the hearthrug, with his heels together and his back to the fire, cane in hand, like a drillsergeant, facing him. Shut that door, please; that will do; come nearer now. I dont want to bawl what I have to say. Now listen. The Baronet cleared his voice and paused, with his eyes upon Feltram. It is only two or three days ago, said he, that you said you wished you had a hundred pounds. Am I right? Yes; I think so. Think? you know it, sir, devilish well. You said that you wished to get away. I have nothing particular to say against that, more especially now. Do you understand what I say? Understand, Sir Bale? I do, sir  quite. I daresay quite he repeated with an angry sneer. Here, sir, is an odd coincidence you want a hundred pounds, and you cant earn it, and you cant borrow it  theres another way, it seems  but I have got it  a BankofEngland note of 100  locked up in that desk; and he poked the end of his cane against the brass lock of it viciously. There it is, and there are the papers you work at; and there are two keys  Ive got one and you have the other  and devil another key in or out of the house has any one living. Well, do you begin to see? Dont mind. I dont want any damned lying about it. Feltram was indeed beginning to see that he was suspected of something very bad, but exactly what, he was not yet sure; and being a man of that unhappy temperament which shrinks from suspicion, as others do from detection, he looked very much put out indeed. Ha, ha! I think we do begin to see, said Sir Bale savagely. Its a bore, I know, troubling a fellow with a story that he knows before; but Ill make mine short. When I take my key, intending to send the note to pay the crown and quitrents that you know  you  you  no matter  you know well enough must be paid, I open it so  and so  and look there, where I left it, for my note; and the notes gone  you understand, the notes gone! Here was a pause, during which, under the Baronets hard insulting eye, poor Feltram winced, and cleared his voice, and essayed to speak, but said nothing. Its gone, and we know where. Now, Mr. Feltram, I did not steal that note, and no one but you and I have access to this desk. You wish to go away, and I have no objection to that  but damn me if you take away that note with you; and you may as well produce it now and here, as hereafter in a worse place. O, my good heaven! exclaimed poor Feltram at last. Im very ill. So you are, of course. It takes a stiff emetic to get all that money off a fellows stomach; and its like parting with a tooth to give up a banknote. Of course youre ill, but thats no sign of innocence, and Im no fool. You had better give the thing up quietly. May my Maker strike me  So He will, you damned rascal, if theres justice in heaven, unless you produce the money. I dont want to hang you. Im willing to let you off if youll let me, but Im cursed if I let my note off along with you; and unless you give it up forthwith, Ill get a warrant and have you searched, pockets, bag, and baggage. Lord! am I awake? exclaimed Philip Feltram. Wide awake, and so am I, replied Sir Bale. You dont happen to have got it about you? God forbid, sir! O, Sir  O, Sir Bale  why, Bale, Bale, its impossible! You cant believe it. When did I ever wrong you? You know me since I was not higher than the table, and  and  He burst into tears. Stop your snivelling, sir, and give up the note. You know devilish well I cant spare it; and I wont spare you if you put me to it. Ive said my say. Sir Bale signed towards the door; and like a somnambulist, with dilated gaze and pale as death, Philip Feltram, at his wits end, went out of the room. It was not till he had again reached the housekeepers door that he recollected in what direction he was going. His shut hand was pressed with all his force to his heart, and the first breath he was conscious of was a deep wild sob or two that quivered from his heart as he looked from the lobbywindow upon a landscape which he did not see. All he had ever suffered before was mild in comparison with this dire paroxysm. Now, for the first time, was he made acquainted with his real capacity for pain, and how near he might be to madness and yet retain intellect enough to weigh every scruple, and calculate every chance and consequence, in his torture. Sir Bale, in the meantime, had walked out a little more excited than he would have allowed. He was still convinced that Feltram had stolen the note, but not quite so certain as he had been. There were things in his manner that confirmed, and others that perplexed, Sir Bale. The Baronet stood upon the margin of the lake, almost under the evening shadow of the house, looking towards Snakes Island. There were two things about Mardykes he specially disliked. One was Philip Feltram, who, right or wrong, he fancied knew more than was pleasant of his past life. The other was the lake. It was a beautiful piece of water, his eye, educated at least in the excellences of landscapepainting, acknowledged. But although he could pull a good oar, and liked other lakes, to this particular sheet of water there lurked within him an insurmountable antipathy. It was engendered by a variety of associations. There is a faculty in man that will acknowledge the unseen. He may scout and scare religion from him; but if he does, superstition perches near. His boding was madeup of omens, dreams, and such stuff as he most affected to despise, and there fluttered at his heart a presentiment and disgust. His foot was on the gunwale of the boat, that was chained to its ring at the margin; but he would not have crossed that water in it for any reason that man could urge. What was the mischief that sooner or later was to befall him from that lake, he could not define; but that some fatal danger lurked there, was the one idea concerning it that had possession of his fancy. He was now looking along its still waters, towards the copse and rocks of Snakes Island, thinking of Philip Feltram; and the yellow level sunbeams touched his dark features, that bore a saturnine resemblance to those of Charles II, and marked sharply their firm grim lines, and left his deepset eyes in shadow. Who has the happy gift to seize the present, as a child does, and live in it? Who is not often looking far off for his happiness, as Sidney Smith says, like a man looking for his hat when it is upon his head? Sir Bale was brooding over his double hatred, of Feltram and of the lake. It would have been better had he struck down the raven that croaked upon his shoulder, and listened to the harmless birds that were whistling all round among the branches in the golden sunset. Chapter 8. Feltrams Plan This horror of the beautiful lake, which other people thought so lovely, was, in that mind which affected to scoff at the unseen, a distinct creation of downright superstition. The nursery tales which had scared him in his childhood were founded on the tragedy of Snakes Island, and haunted him with an unavowed persistence still. Strange dreams untold had visited him, and a German conjuror, who had made some strangely successful vaticinations, had told him that his worst enemy would come up to him from a lake. He had heard very nearly the same thing from a fortuneteller in France; and once at Lucerne, when he was waiting alone in his room for the hour at which he had appointed to go upon the lake, all being quiet, there came to the window, which was open, a sunburnt, lean, wicked face. Its ragged owner leaned his arm on the windowframe, and with his head in the room, said in his patois, Ho! waiting are you? Youll have enough of the lake one day. Dont you mind watching; theyll send when youre wanted; and twisting his yellow face into a malicious distortion, he went on. This thing had occurred so suddenly, and chimedin so oddly with his thoughts, which were at that moment at distant Mardykes and the haunted lake, that it disconcerted him. He laughed, he looked out of the window. He would have given that fellow money to tell him why he said that. But there was no good in looking for the scamp; he was gone. A memory not preoccupied with that lake and its omens, and a presentiment about himself, would not have noted such things. But hismind they touched indelibly; and he was ashamed of his childish slavery, but could not help it. The foundation of all this had been laid in the nursery, in the winters tales told by its fireside, and which seized upon his fancy and his fears with a strange congeniality. There is a large bedroom at Mardykes Hall, which tradition assigns to the lady who had perished tragically in the lake. Mrs. Julaper was sure of it; for her aunt, who died a very old woman twenty years before, remembered the time of the ladys death, and when she grew to womans estate had opportunity in abundance; for the old people who surrounded her could remember forty years farther back, and tell everything connected with the old house in beautiful Miss Feltrams time.