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This digression is meant to signify, unaccountable thing was the fatality that I never joined the single men which attended me, and seemed to and double Mantons that went in and mark me out for an untimely death. off among Sir Lionel Garrett's pre- I, who had so carefully kept out of serves. I used, instead, to take long the way of gunpowder as a sportsman, walks by myself, and found, like very narrowly escaped being twice virtue, my own reward, in the addi-shot as a ghost. This was but a poor tional health and strength reward for a walk more than a mile diurnal exertions produced me. long, in nights by no means of cloudOne morning, chance threw into less climes and starry skies; accordmy way a bonne fortune, which I took ingly I resolved to 'give up the care to improve. From that time ghost" in earnest rather than in methe family of a Farmer Sinclair (one taphor, and to pay my last visit and of Sir Lionel's tenants) was alarmed adieus to the mansion of Farmer Sinby strange and supernatural noises: clair. The night on which I executed one apartment in especial, occupied this resolve was rather memorable in by a female member of the household, my future history. was allowed, even by the clerk of the parish, a very bold man, and a bit of a sceptic, to be haunted; the win-house almost impassable, and when it dows of that chamber were wont to open and shut, thin airy voices confabulate therein, and dark shapes hover thereout, long after the fair occupant had, with the rest of the family, retired to repose.

The rain had fallen so heavily during the day, as to render the road to the

was time to leave, I inquired with very considerable emotion, whether there was not an easier way to return. The answer was satisfactory, and my last nocturnal visit at Farmer SinBut the most clair's concluded.

CHAPTER VI.

Why sleeps he not, when others are at rest?-BYRON. ACCORDING to the explanation I had received, the road I was now to pursue was somewhat longer, but much better, than that which I generally took. It was to lead me home through the churchyard of the same, by the by, which Lord Vincent had particularised in his anecdote of the mysterious stranger. The night was clear, but windy there were a few light clouds passing rapidly over the moon, which was at her full, and shone through the frosty air, with all that cold and transparent brightness so peculiar to our northern winters. I walked briskly on till I came to the churchyard; I could not then help pausing (notwithstanding my total

deficiency in all romance) to look for a few moments at the exceeding beauty of the scene around me. The church itself was extremely old, and stood alone and grey, in the rude simplicity of the earliest form of gothic architecture: two large dark yew-trees drooped on each side over tombs, which, from their size and decorations, appeared to be the last possession of some quondam lords of the soil. To the left, the ground was skirted by a thick and luxuriant copse of evergreens, in the front of which stood one tall, naked oak, stern and leafless, a very token of desolation and decay; there were but few grave stones scattered about, and these were, for the most part,

hidden by the long wild grass which wreathed and climbed round them. Over all, the blue skies and still moon shed that solemn light, the effect of which, either on the scene or the feelings, it is so impossible to describe.

threw myself towards him, and called him by his name. He turned hastily; but I would not suffer him to escape; I put my hand upon his arm, and drew him towards me. "Glanville!" I exclaimed, "it is I! it is your oldold friend, Henry Pelham. Good Heavens! have I met you at last, and in such a scene?"

Glanville shook me from him in an instant, covered his face with his hands, and sank down with one wild cry, which went fearfully through that still place, upon the spot from which he had but just risen. I knelt beside him; I took his hand; I spoke to him in every endearing term that I could think of; and, roused and excited as my feelings were, by so strange and sudden a meeting, I felt my tears

I was just about to renew my walk, when a tall, dark figure, wrapped up like myself, in a large French cloak, passed slowly along from the other side of the church, and paused by the copse I have before mentioned. I was shrouded at that moment from his sight by one of the yew trees; he stood still only for a few moments; he then flung himself upon the earth, and sobbed, audibly, even at the spot where I was standing. I was in doubt whether to wait longer or to proceed; my way lay just by him, and it might be dangerous to interrupt so substan-involuntarily falling over the hand tial an apparition. However, my curiosity was excited, and my feet were half frozen, two cogent reasons for proceeding; and, to say truth, I was never very much frightened by any thing dead or alive.

Accordingly I left my obscurity, and walked slowly onwards. I had not got above three paces before the figure arose, and stood erect and motionless before me. His hat had fallen off, and the moon shone full upon his countenance; it was not the wild expression of intense anguish which dwelt on those hueless and sunken features, nor their quick change to ferocity and defiance, as his eye fell upon me, which made me start back and feel my heart stand still! Notwithstanding the fearful ravages graven in that countenance, once so brilliant with the graces of boyhood, I recognised, at one glance, those still noble and striking features. It was Reginald Glanville who stood before me! I recovered myself instantly; I

which I held in my own. Glanville turned; he looked at me for one moment, as if fully to recognise me; and then throwing himself in my arms, wept like a child.

It was but for a few minutes that this weakness lasted; he rose suddenly-the whole expression of his countenance was changed-the tears still rolled in large drops down his cheeks, but the proud, stern character which the features had assumed, seemed to deny the feelings which that feminine weakness had betrayed.

"Pelham," he said, "you have seen me thus; I had hoped that no living eye would-this is the last time in which I shall indulge this folly. God bless you-we shall meet again—and this night shall then seem to you like a dream."

I would have answered, but he turned swiftly, passed in one moment through the copse, and in the next had disappeared.

CHAPTER VII.

You reach a chilling chamber, where you dread
Damps.-CRABBE's Borough.

I COULD not sleep the whole of that between two tall, rugged, black cliffs. night, and the next morning I set off Before the door hung various nets to early, with the resolution of discover-dry beneath the genial warmth of a ing where Glanville had taken up his abode; it was evident from his having been so frequently seen, that it must be in the immediate neighbourhood.

I went first to Farmer Sinclair's; they had often remarked him, but could give me no other information. I then proceeded towards the coast; there was a small public-house belonging to Sir Lionel close by the sea shore; never had I seen a more bleak and dreary prospect than that which stretched for miles around this miserable cabin. How an innkeeper could live there, is a mystery to me at this day I should have imagined it a spot upon which anything but a sea-gull or a Scotchman would have starved.

"Just the sort of place, however," thought I," to hear something of Glanville." I went into the house; I inquired, and heard that a strange gentleman had been lodging for the last two or three weeks at a cottage about a mile further up the coast. Thither I bent my steps; and after having met two crows, and one officer on the preventive service, I arrived safely at my new destination.

It was a house a little better, in outward appearance, than the wretched hut I had just left, for I observe in all situations, and in all houses, that "the public" is not too well served.; but the situation was equally lonely and desolate. The house itself, which belonged to an individual, half-fisherman and half-smuggler, stood in a sort of bay,

winter's sun; and a broken boat, with its keel uppermost, furnished an admirable habitation for a hen and her family, who appeared to receive en pension an old clerico-bachelor-looking raven. I cast a suspicious glance at the last-mentioned personage, which hopped towards me with a very hostile appearance, and entered the threshold with a more rapid step, in consequence of sundry apprehensions of a premeditated assault.

"I understand," said I, to an old, dried, brown female, who looked like a resuscitated red-herring, "that a gentleman is lodging here."

"No, sir," was the answer: "he left us this morning."

The reply came upon me like a shower bath; I was both chilled and stunned by so unexpected a shock. The old woman, on my renewing my inquiries, took me up stairs, to a small, wretched room, to which the damps literally clung. In one corner was a flock-bed, still unmade, and opposite to it, a three-legged stool, a chair, and an antique carved oak table, a donation perhaps from some squire in the neighbourhood; on this last were scattered fragments of writing paper, a cracked cup half full of ink, a pen, and a broken ramrod. As I mechanically took up the latter, the woman said, in a charming patois, which I shall translate, since I cannot do justice to the original :-"The gentleman, sir, said he came here for a few weeks to shoot; he brought a gun, a

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