<7 
 
 University of California Berkeley 
 

 A ROMANCE. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 J. E. TILTON AND COMPANY, 
 
 161 WASHINGTON STREET. 
 
 1860. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by 
 
 J. E. TILTON AND COMPANY, 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 University Press, Cambridge : 
 Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. SIR ROHAN \\ 
 
 II. OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY . . 17 
 
 ILI. MIRIAM 37 
 
 IV. THE WINE-CELLAR . . . . . 73 
 
 V. THE RINGS . 102 
 
 VI. JTanc!)0n 122 
 
 VH. TESTIMONY 154 
 
 VlLL THE FOREHEAD OF THE STORM . .175 
 
 IX. SUNSHINE 181 
 
 X. MR. ARUNDEL 193 
 
 XT. WORK . . 2 15 
 
 M514202 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 XII. MORTMAIN . . . . . . . 229 
 
 XHL HALCYON DAYS . . . . .257 
 
 XIV. MIRIAM'S KINGDOM . . . . . 268 
 
 XV. THE Two . . . . . . .277 
 
 XVI. Ix THE LANES 283 
 
 XVII. WHETHER OR No 296 
 
 XVTII. REDRUTH SURRENDERS HIS ACCOUNTS . 301 
 
 XIX. THE FACE IN THE FLASH . . . .317 
 
 XX. THE CLANG OF HOOFS . . . . 328 
 
 XXI. THE GHOST . 336 
 
" Si 1'on entendoit bien la difference qu'il y a entre Tim- 
 possible et Pinusite, et entre ce qui est centre Pordre du 
 cours de nature, et centre la commune opinion des homines ; 
 en ne croyant pas temerairement, ny aussi ne descroyant 
 pas facilement, on observeroit la reigle de Mien trop, com- 
 mande'e par Chilon." 
 
 MONTAIGNE. 
 
I. 
 
 SIR ROHAN. 
 
 fTlHERE is a Ghost in all aristocratic families, 
 I and therefore it is not to be presumed that 
 the great house of Belvidere was destitute. But 
 though it had dragged on a miserable existence 
 some three hundred years without one, at last 
 that distinction was to arrive. Sir Rohan had a 
 Ghost. Not by any means a common ghost that 
 appeared at midnight on the striking of a bell, 
 and trailed its winding-sheet through the upper 
 halls nearest the roof, but a Ghost that, sleeping 
 or waking, never left him, a Ghost whose long 
 hair coiled round and stifled the fair creations 
 of his dreams, and whose white garments swept 
 leprously into his sunshine. 
 
 Sir Rohan had left his home in the northeast 
 of England, and had refurnished one more cheer- 
 ful, on the opposite extremity of the island, in 
 
12 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 Cornwall. Pleasant fields extended on either 
 hand, a woody mountain climbed behind, and 
 the long swells of the Atlantic rolled in front. 
 Fine pictures adorned the galleries, soft draperies 
 shrouded the apartments, and delicate sculptures 
 confronted you at every turn. But something 
 else confronted Sir Rohan ; the Ghost had flitted 
 too, and even here he found no rest. If he 
 galloped up the lawns from his morning ride, 
 the sad, pale face looked earnestly from door or 
 window on him and faded; and if he rowed 
 homeward in the sunset, with his listless spray- 
 washed sail, the same face gazed from a balcony 
 dreamily out to sea. 
 
 In determined attempts to lay this Ghost, Sir 
 Rohan threw himself into the heat of foray and 
 battle. Braver knight there was not in the king- 
 dom; but he left the army, for the shape glid- 
 ed perpetually between his sword and his foe, 
 charged breathless and with glistening eyes be- 
 side him, rode with the same glitter as earnestly 
 in retreat, covered him with its oppressive va- 
 cancy when he fell, till sense ebbed away with 
 his blood. Then Sir Rohan essayed oratory and 
 statesmanship; but the shape, so distinct that it 
 
SIR ROHAN. 13 
 
 seemed as if others too must see it, swayed its 
 long arm beside him as he spoke, and sobbed 
 Banshee-like, with a rustling inspiration, in his 
 pauses. Sir Rohan left the bench and bar. 
 Dissipation opened its arms to receive him, mid- 
 night drawing-rooms were proud to hold him, 
 gay dances wreathed themselves to his motions, 
 rosy cheeks flushed at his approach. But a 
 pale cheek was beside the rosy ones, an airier 
 form glided through the dancers and did not 
 disturb the set ; and, with the red wine before 
 him, a long white finger plunged down the glass 
 and brought up the glittering trophy of a golden 
 ring. Sir Rohan reformed. Yet perhaps in 
 the dry recesses of old libraries he might be 
 alone, and so he delved deep among musty 
 tomes, striving to bury his heart with the dust 
 of ages that he found there ; but another hand 
 shifted the leaves as he read, and eyes devoid of 
 speculation met his as he unconsciously turned 
 for sympathy in the page. When on some rude 
 map he traced the route of conquerors, another 
 finger followed his, pointing out spots at which 
 he did not glance, and resting wearily on places 
 he would gladly have blotted from existence ; 
 
14 SIE ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 and as his eye wandered in quest of some de- 
 sired volume on higher shelves, the Ghost flut- 
 tered up and down below it. Sir Kohan left 
 literature. 
 
 Was there, then, nothing in which this haunted 
 man could bury himself? He, who was in no 
 wise else a coward, here followed the beck and 
 call of a nameless fear, a shrouded and indis- 
 tinct influence, that forbade adventure and ex- 
 ploit, and with a cold, bold hand played jarring 
 discords on his heart-strings, and fought perpet- 
 ually with the strong heroic ambition that op- 
 posed it. To the lustre of a great name Sir 
 Rohan would fain have added further brilliance, 
 but to good deeds and the gentle sway of 
 charity and pity he never once thought of ap- 
 plying this impulsive and superfluous energy ; 
 and since the Ghost stood at every other avenue, 
 (and mayhap at this as well,) his life bade fail- 
 to vapor itself away into visions as idle as those 
 of the early fog. For him the earth had lost 
 its beauty, the shade of mystical woods no 
 longer allured, nor did the dash of free waters 
 exhilarate; the sky was robbed of its slanting 
 sunshine, down whose beams had once slid glo- 
 
SIR ROHAN. 15 
 
 rious forces of young life and strength to join 
 his own aspirations ; a dark miasma seemed to 
 have risen and blotted out the blue, and with 
 the Tipspringing of its fathomless arch his soul 
 never once rose, for he carried his eyes on the 
 ground, as one who gropes darkly step by step. 
 
 Was Sir Rohan hypochondriac ? Was his Ghost 
 but the indigestion of numerous rich dinners ? 
 Was it some unwhisperable remorse that clothed 
 him, still living, in a pall ? Or was it any restless 
 honor that glamoured ceaselessly across his strain- 
 ing sight ? 
 
 Be that as it may, he consulted neither priest 
 nor leech ; for disease is to be cured only by those 
 who know its seat and cause, and how many in 
 the world or out of it that number might 
 include, Sir Rohan himself best knew. 
 
 In rare, cool evenings, when peace fell with the 
 dew, and the flute of the crickets sweetened 
 silence, what had this man but his Ghost ? When 
 the snows folded earth and sky in plumy white- 
 ness, what fell with the flakes, changing and 
 wavering at every gusty flock, but always the 
 Ghost? What pleasure was for him, though Na- 
 ture took him by the hand and led him through 
 
16 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 her flowery labyrinths, unrolling her arcana gor- 
 geous with scutcheons of purpose and perform- 
 ance, and filling him with the lore of her mystic 
 ways, when the Ghost also had the keys, turned 
 them softly in the wards, and entered with him, 
 diffusing her dark effluence over all things, like a 
 blot ? What cup ever brimmed at his lips, but 
 the Ghost had first distilled her drop of refined 
 poison there ? He was a man into whose compo- 
 sition large passion and quick resolution had en- 
 tered; but now, like a cloud borrowing shape 
 from the underlying promontory, as if she were 
 real, he fleeting and false, he forsook all choice, 
 assumed her shifting habit, and veered with the 
 veering Ghost. 
 
II. 
 
 OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY. 
 
 ONE summer day, buried in the deep ferns 
 of a high common, the warm, sweet breeze 
 streaming in long wafts above him, many hours 
 he lay fingering restlessly at the little mosses and 
 dainty violets, face downward, lest glancing up 
 he should see the Ghost where she sat, so white 
 and thin that the sunshine fell through her delicate 
 texture upon the flowers he touched, her fingers 
 lying wearily also upon the violets, while her sad 
 eyes weighed him down with their flickering but 
 tireless gaze. The hum of innumerable insects 
 rose around him, and the long emerald lances 
 of strange flies hurtled beyond; now and then 
 a lark dropped a strain of song down from some 
 covert in the skies, or a nightingale in its low 
 nest twittered faintly through the noon a breath 
 of melody, and hushed itself again. Sir Rohan's 
 
 2* B 
 
18 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 heart, which had been so long torpid, opened 
 anew, and became warmed and filled with the 
 sweet influences of nature ; the richness of the 
 matured year, in the gorgeous pageant of its 
 summer, defiled across his senses ; all the beauty 
 to which he had been insensible unsheathed itself 
 and flashed through his soul ; the growth of a 
 weary while at last accomplished itself, and in 
 the long hours of that balmy day he believed 
 the artist to have been born. Years seemed to 
 have passed since he wandered out upon the 
 common, and the early morning, with its dew 
 and fragrance, loomed as far off as the purple 
 inlands do to sea-coast mariners ; again he had 
 a purpose. 
 
 Eefusing to give credence to the doubt that 
 the Ghost could not thus be laid, he rose and 
 pursued his way with uplifted head and elastic 
 step ; nor was he conscious how steadily he gazed 
 before him, turning neither to right nor left, lest 
 the accursed object should meet his eyes, nor 
 how unequal the quick beatings of his heart 
 made the chant he hummed, and, lest any rustle 
 and flow of drapery beside him should fill its 
 intervals, that he hummed unbrokenly. Under 
 
OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY. 19 
 
 his doorway, he paused and turned back a glance 
 on the gathering twilight. A cold touch fell 
 upon his wrist, growing bolder till the long fin- 
 gers closed their icy grasp around it ; constrained, 
 he met the shadowy eyes that hovered and grew 
 still close before his own. A bale-fire for a mo- 
 ment glowed within them, fading to a dead glare 
 and then sinking into obscurity, while the ap- 
 palling grasp loosened, the touch ceased, and 
 through the darkness of the night nothing was 
 to be seen but the evening star hanging and 
 trembling just above the gray horizon. Perhaps 
 it was the Ghost's farewell. A new sense of 
 freedom suffused his being, and he laughed a 
 long and bitter laugh as he leaned scornfully 
 against the wall. Could the Ghost have left a 
 companionship such as that? Perhaps by ab- 
 sence she renewed her power, or peradventure 
 she was journeying. 
 
 That night Sir Rohan slept well, and as if 
 bathed in rejuvenescence he met the morning 
 light, full of fresh strength and courage. A 
 tedious initiation lay before him, but he had pa- 
 tience for it, since true genius is well content to 
 wear the harness for a while, that its strength 
 
20 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 may be made available, and so at first he groped 
 that he at last might soar. 
 
 Time was valueless to him ; and whatever hours 
 elapsed ere he had mastered his art, he did not 
 count them, but in his freedom, and as he would 
 say, drawing in his breath exultingly, in his sol- 
 itude, he began and pursued his task. Day by 
 day found him before his easel. The first song 
 of dawn spread softest shades of unattainable 
 color before his thought, the vertical rays of 
 noon toned his visions down to subdued splen- 
 dor, and sunset found and gave him those bril- 
 liant dyes in which few artists have dipped the 
 brush. Sir Rohan's reach was high indeed ; 
 what he brought down and spread upon his can- 
 vas he hardly dared hope would prove commen- 
 surate with his conceptions, nor that he could 
 make others see what to him had such distinct 
 and beautiful reality. 
 
 It was merely an ideal, allegoric in its nature, 
 on which he at last expended the mature flow 
 of his skill and imagination. Through it he 
 designed to illustrate a truth, although he had 
 not sufficiently freed his mind unbiased enough 
 generally from the puerile conceits of fancy- 
 
OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY. 21 
 
 sketches, and thus his outline was neither origi- 
 nal nor spirited ; and while acknowledging this, 
 he triumphed in the power he found to suffuse 
 and impregnate it with an indescribable pomp 
 and lustre. His whole heart was in his work. 
 The Ghost had apparently vanished, or if her 
 spell, so long his death in life, ever entered his 
 memory, he laughed joyously at the present and 
 most mockingly at the past, thoroughly despising 
 his old and pitiable weakness. He toiled con- 
 stantly, and no thought not inspired by his paint- 
 ing possessed him. He seemed to have wrung 
 the hues he used from the very heart of Nature. 
 Sunsets, concentrating their glow, rendered more 
 radiant by the prismatic dews of sunrise, deep- 
 ened, softened, and mellowed by the purple ten- 
 derness of twilight tints, could not be more 
 gorgeous than the ineffable magic he evoked. 
 Magic ? Once or twice Sir Rohan almost trem- 
 bled at mysterious moments when, after pro- 
 ducing any great effect, he felt the silent air of 
 his room pulsate, as it were, around him, drawing 
 away and contracting again as if a vacuum had 
 been there created, while after every such occur- 
 rence a pressure of which he had frequently been 
 
22 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 conscious was removed. Often prolonging his 
 delight till the place was filled with shadows, he 
 discerned a brighter atmosphere around himself, 
 in whose pale, uncertain illumination he worked, 
 while jets of white light, like little tongues of 
 flame, gathered and flowed from his brush into 
 the picture. Something in his own performance, 
 unfinished though it was, appalled him ; and at 
 such moments he wrought only more vehemently 
 and unshrinkingly, never in the morning, how- 
 ever, undoing what he felt to be the inspiration 
 of the twilight before. 
 
 And yet he was not quite free of the Ghost. 
 Perhaps it was not possible thus violently to pass 
 from one such state to another not less peculiar 
 and intense, or perhaps his imagination now and 
 then conjured up a semblance, languid and wan 
 indeed, of what had been a weary fact of his 
 existence. Still more likely it is that the sharp- 
 ness of his distress had become dulled by use, 
 and he felt it as a part of himself; so much so, 
 that, having fallen to a stagnant depression, relief 
 from this incubus would result in a bewildering 
 buoyancy. He endeavored ceaselessly to forget. 
 
 Truly precious things, in art as in nature, are 
 
OVER THE HILLS AND FAB AWAY. 23 
 
 seldom spontaneous, but require growth and de- 
 liberation beyond the germ; and thus Sir Rohan, 
 who carried his method into all this, had once 
 laid aside his implements, and was considering 
 the law of combinations and equivalents, when 
 he felt what at first was a stream of cool breath 
 across his closed eyelids, slowly increasing to a 
 cold but almost imperceptible finger-touch. If 
 this were the old shadow, how much of its power 
 was lost! 
 
 Frequently, while at his work, he had a per- 
 ception of certain harmonious properties of the 
 universe, and more particularly of those particles 
 composing the atmosphere, which seemed to emit 
 one vast gentle accord as they moved interfluently 
 among themselves. So perfect and integral must 
 this harmony be, Sir Rohan reasoned, that unless 
 when disturbed by some extraneous or adverse 
 influence it is imperceptible to mortal ears ; and 
 thus, whenever heard by him, he knew that the 
 vibrations were audible only by means of this 
 dissonant and divulsive presence, as hostile, it 
 appeared, to the kind forces of nature as to 
 him. At the time when his eyes felt these cold 
 finger-tips, he became aware also of this outer 
 
24 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 harmony throbbing in long rhythmical waves of 
 finest sound, as if drawn from silver wires by a 
 low, hot wind. This was unapproachable, almost 
 infinite; on all sides of him he heard a chord 
 produced perhaps millions of cycles away, but 
 on its bosom and overtopping it like the foam 
 on a long sea-swell, the atoms of air immediately 
 in contact with himself seemed each to drop a 
 golden note of full music down, till a distinct 
 melody, bursting with tune and modulated by 
 this grand spheric accompaniment, panted along 
 the hot summer noon. 
 
 Opening his eyes, Sir Rohan saw nothing but 
 the vacant room, the great vases of blossoms 
 drooping in the sultry heat, which he constantly 
 kept for the rich tints and suggestions of color- 
 ing they afforded, the wide-open window with the 
 distantly russet hills through it drawing down 
 veils of paler mist to the valleys in their bosom, 
 and the cloudless sky that bent its ardent arch 
 and with fiery languors kissed the nearer sum- 
 mits till they smoked. No wind stirred any little 
 branch ; no actual murmur broke the spell, if 
 spell it was ; but still the mighty music surged 
 on, blending with his breath, with his heart-beat, 
 
OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY. 25 
 
 and neither ceasing suddenly nor dying away ; 
 perhaps it touched the key-note of sleep, for over 
 his perturbation a drowsiness wrapped itself, and 
 erelong he slept. Sleeping, Sir Rohan naturally 
 dreamed. 
 
 To his artistic eye, so long exercised upon 
 material form, the dream assumed the distinct 
 peopling of a series of vivid views, rather than 
 the vague and edgeless fantasies of usual sleep, 
 although during the first few moments of its 
 duration he saw only five fine black lines or 
 wires drawn across a gray profound, and bear- 
 ing, in a certain order, musical characters of fire, 
 each one of which, as he read its tone, grew 
 brighter an instant, imparting its blaze to the 
 next, until he read the perfect score of the mel- 
 ody to which he was listening but a moment 
 before. Some strange words, long lost, hummed 
 along his memory ; and as he delivered himself 
 further to the guidance of his dream, they also 
 became as audible as the music which they joined. 
 
 In the summer even 
 
 While yet the dew was hoar, 
 I went plucking purple pansies 
 
 Till my love should come to shore. 
 3 
 
26 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 The fishing lights their dances 
 
 Were keeping out at sea, 
 And come, I sung, my true love ! 
 
 Come hasten home to me. 
 
 But the sea it fell a-moaning, 
 
 And the white gulls rocked thereon, 
 And the young moon dropt from heaven, 
 
 And the lights hid one by one. 
 All silently their glances 
 
 Slipt down the cruel sea, 
 And wait ! cried the night and wind and storm, 
 
 Wait, till I come to thee ! 
 
 By what sudden change accomplished he knew 
 not, nor was he at all astonished thereat, when 
 instead of the bars of music he was aware of a 
 still picture of low-country life. A canal sweep- 
 ing its umberous waters slowly onward through 
 banks lined with the green sunshine of early 
 willows, and down toward a low stone bridge 
 whose twin arches spanned the turbid flow and 
 broke it, ere reaching the narrow pier, into nu- 
 merous long ripples. Beyond, the country was 
 one level expanse, clothed in the vivid pestilential 
 green of fens and marshes, and above, a calm 
 sky belted at the horizon with a low, brilliant 
 west. Leaning over the bridge, a female figure 
 
OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY. 27 
 
 tall and lithe, clad in some sober gray, her white 
 cap hanging by its ribbons down one shoulder, 
 and her dark unbraided hair blowing in long 
 tresses against the zone of sunset ; in her hand 
 a bunch of reeds, which she trailed in the broken 
 ripples. So exact the lines of this Flemish pic- 
 ture, that Sir Rohan saw clearly defined the 
 black shadow which fine separate lashes threw 
 over large gray eyes, and the delicate confusion 
 of palest olive and ruddiest peach upon the oval 
 cheek. The presence at a distance of another 
 person, a dark, slender youth with arrested atten- 
 tion, Sir Rohan felt rather than saw, although 
 he caught the glitter of a ring of curious device 
 upon the latter 's hand, and felt certain that the 
 eyes of the two had met, when through her 
 parted lips he heard, as if for the first time, 
 the tune dreamily trilling, 
 
 I went plucking purple pansies 
 Till my love should come to shore. 
 
 And the long gray ripples, growing fainter and 
 darker, seemed to murmur responsively, as they 
 swept onward with divided currents, 
 
 Wait ! cried the night and wind and storm, 
 Wait, till I come to thee ! 
 
28 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 How quickly the night fell on this scene, nor 
 by what means the low-country canal became a 
 narrow rural lane winding between high stone 
 walls, over which luxuriant hops clambered and 
 hung their blossoming sprays and bunches of 
 greenery on the other side, Sir Rohan did not 
 pause to consider. Nor did he wonder at see- 
 ing the soberly-clad girl wandering lingeringly 
 down its avenue, arm in arm with the shadowy 
 youth, till some great bars opposed their pro- 
 gress ; nor, as she mounted the stile beside them, 
 did he wonder at seeing the ring of curious de- 
 vice shining, this time, on her hand, nor at the 
 utterly happy gleam from her loving eyes as she 
 turned to him standing below and holding a little 
 bunch of violets and rue that had lain in her 
 breast. An indistinct sorrow stole over Sir Rohan 
 as he saw the head crowned with its royal braid, 
 the face with its sunshine and beauty, the whole 
 vignette, recede and fade away to somber est mist, 
 leaving nothing but the bars growing more and 
 more distant, while gigantic notes of light started 
 into flashes on their surface and thundered the 
 old melody through his bewildered ears. There 
 succeeded an interval of serenest rest, ere into 
 
OVER THE HILLS AND FAB AWAY. 29 
 
 Sir Rohan's dream quietly stole the same figures 
 again, the same, yet different. The quiet gown, 
 the simple cap, were gone ; the lady trailed rus- 
 tling satins over whose majestic folds the gloss 
 of golden intricacies of needlework sparkled and 
 deadened as she walked. Jewels, which might 
 be the heirlooms of untainted ancestry, lay on 
 her bare white bosom and encircled her brow, 
 and the ring of curious device still flashed on 
 her snowy hand. Her eyes, glowing with pas- 
 sion, bent on the face of her companion as they 
 wound slowly up the outer turret stair in a 
 broad dash of moonlight, his arm supporting her 
 waist and his eyes meeting her own. Around 
 them lay a different landscape. Long sweeps 
 of moors, dun and dark, like petrified sea-swells ; 
 mountains distantly grand and shadowy ; a mighty 
 river lapsing down to meet its bridge of a hun- 
 dred arches, and its flickering silver masts ; the 
 ocean clamoring his eternal sorrow from wine- 
 dark depths, and with white, speechless lips of 
 angry froth forever lapping the cliffs and crags 
 far up along the northward. But the dreamer 
 feels that the lovers see none but each other, 
 and as the old tune creeps up from gulfs of 
 
 3* 
 
30 
 
 silence, lie sees the youth gaze for a moment 
 inland over those dim hills, and hum half to 
 himself : 
 
 " En un verde prado 
 De rosas c florcs, 
 Guardando ganado 
 Con otros pastores, 
 La vi tan fermosa 
 
 Que apenas creycra 
 
 Que fucse vaquera 
 De la Einojosa ! " 
 
 A breathless, silent rapture seemed stealing over 
 this part of Sir Rohan's dream, as if he himself 
 were an actor of its wordless drama, an inner 
 intense glee, to which he had perhaps been alien 
 for many years. Let us believe that in the dream, 
 as in life, this moment of joy found its equivalent 
 of pain. While he paused to turn it over in his 
 thought, and extract the last sweet relish of its 
 flavor, the illusive phantasmagoria existed no 
 longer ; and when next the tide of sleep thinned 
 itself, he saw a long, low-browed room, wainscoted 
 in oak, uncarpeted, and fitted with furniture of an 
 antique pattern. One only window lighted it, a 
 Gothic oval, and unglazed, so that the vines and 
 sweet-briers, climbing without, twisted their ten- 
 
OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY. 31 
 
 drils into the crevices, and tossed their tempting 
 garniture within. Midway of the room, and in 
 the broad beam of yellow sunshine that thus fell 
 through, sat the female figure of his dream. Gar- 
 ments of dark purple wrapped and swept around 
 her, the masses of her purple black hair were 
 looped heavily in their hateful weight, her eyes 
 were larger and more hollow by reason of their 
 purple rims ; she sat half bent forward, her white 
 hands, still sparkling with that single ring, clasped 
 across her knee, and a dead despair settling slowly 
 like a pall above her. If there were any other in 
 that room, gloomy in spite of its sunshine, Sir 
 Rohan's dream obstinately refused to recognize 
 him. It seemed a weary age that, fascinated by 
 the mute tragedy, he recalled and gazed upon its 
 action ; but while he gazed, the thick palpitations 
 of his heart so shook and disordered him that the 
 air wavered and trembled around him, bright 
 specks danced in the shadows, a mist crept be- 
 tween him and herself, the room opened and 
 spread its dark sides indefinitely into duskiness, 
 the rush of great waters was in his ears, and when 
 he recovered his vision he saw only long black 
 hair sweeping headlong down the current, a 
 
32 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 ghastly face whose eyes, hard as pebbles in a 
 brook, reflected no light as they sunk beneath the 
 hurrying stream, a white arm clinging round a 
 floating branch, a hand gleaming with the ring of 
 curious device, obscurely, as it washed downward 
 through the roar and eddy of this river of the 
 North. How it seemed only the low canal, hun- 
 dreds of miles away, flowing on to meet its bridge, 
 while the voice of the ripples, setting in black 
 angry swirls round the single pier, seemed to 
 repeat the words with a harsh sudden cadence ; 
 nor why, when with a dreadful start it all van- 
 ished, and he knew only the Ghost, his own Ghost, 
 standing before him and singing from the score, 
 loud and clear, while her hard eyes transfixed 
 him, 
 
 "Wait ! cried the night and wind and storm, 
 Wait, till I come to thee ! 
 
 Sir Kohan never wondered, but with a groan 
 grew faint and dizzy in his sleep, and suffered this 
 dreamy sense to reel away from him. What a 
 shiver seized him then ! what a noise was in his 
 brain ! how thunderously his weary heart beat 
 forward on its way ! with what a fierce quaking 
 he sprung into the centre of the room, nor felt 
 
OVER THE HILLS AND FAB AWAY. 33 
 
 relief at finding it a dream ! The sun had hardly 
 declined a degree, the noon was not less sultry, no 
 softer shade enveloped any object ; he had whirled 
 through the great eddy of his youth, he had 
 ploughed and reaped the seed whose fruit he was 
 never to exhaust, and he had slept ten minutes. 
 
 Doggedly he examined his pencils, ground more 
 oil into his browns, and again feverishly busied 
 himself over what was now his solace. Glancing 
 upward, he noticed with a thrill of horror that 
 the eyes of the picture for it was no landscape 
 emitted such a green, hard glare as had lately 
 pierced him. Indeed, he had painted them gray. 
 Without pausing to regret the care he had be- 
 stowed on their finish, the artist raised his brush 
 with one stroke to obliterate them, when he re- 
 flected that such procedure would utterly ruin 
 any chance of obtaining succeeding transparency 
 and brilliance, besides fouling the delicacy of 
 touch which his after work should wear. Perhaps 
 scraping would answer as well. But the palette- 
 knife and even sharper instruments were of no 
 avail, for he remembered what powerful siccatives 
 had been employed, and the impenetrable varnish 
 of sandarach and poppy-oil with which, in order 
 
34 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 to preserve the primal freshness and bloom of the 
 tints, he had early overlaid this portion of his 
 work. Neither acid nor alkali weakened the 
 unendurable stare ; and still throbbing from his 
 dream, perplexed and baffled, he felt as if reason 
 would desert him did he fail in effacing its chance. 
 Had the Ghost almost left him free, that he should 
 perpetuate her eyes upon his canvas ? Exasper- 
 ated, he seized a vial of inflammable oil, intend- 
 ing by its means to burn off the obnoxious surface, 
 thus endangering the blossom of many years' 
 labor, when the lazily ascending smoke of a distant 
 lime-kiln caught his eye and suggested a new 
 remedy. He hesitated a moment, half fearing to 
 leave those eyes alone, and then, laughing at him- 
 self, went out quickly and closed the door. 
 
 Intent on his moody thoughts, and regardless 
 of the heat, he walked swiftly forward, meeting 
 in his way but one face, and that a handsome 
 one, flashing on him from a travelling-chariot 
 that lumbered along the rarely frequented high- 
 way, till he reached his destination ; when 
 having obtained a small quantity of lime, and 
 wasting no words on the burners, he betook 
 himself homeward. It was a half-hour's rapid 
 
OVER THE HILLS AND PAR AWAY. 35 
 
 walk ; on one side, across some sterile fields, the 
 sea running in long, low lines up a yellow 
 beach, and filling the air with an unbroken 
 drowsy drone. But the sea did not attract Sir 
 Rohan's regard; indeed, lest its advancing wash 
 should throw some rejected secret from its 
 bosom, he turned his eyes on the other hand, 
 where, across the neglected lands and luxuriant 
 woods of his own estate, rose the chimney-stacks 
 of the lonely house. No living thing, it seemed 
 to him, ever crossed his path ; he suspected that 
 the grass ceased growing in his footsteps, yet 
 did not marvel why beneath the fervors of the 
 noon, the Ghost, alone unwearied, refused to 
 join the universal spell of rest and hush. At 
 last, re-entering at a postern door, he again 
 sought his work. 
 
 Having slaked and mixed the lime with a 
 strong mineral alkali, he plastered it upon the 
 part to be destroyed, not heeding a faint rap 
 on the door, and turned to other details yet 
 unfinished. But till success in this was assured, 
 he found it impossible to proceed, and threw 
 down his implements in anger. It would then 
 be many hours ere he could resume his task, and, 
 
36 
 
 having' generally employed the strong meridian 
 light, he found himself suddenly at a loss for 
 occupation. Accordingly, remembering the timid 
 rap of the old steward whose application had 
 met with usual success, and designing after- 
 ward to employ himself in the greenhouse, so 
 called, which alone of all his former luxuries he 
 retained, Sir Rohan opened his door, and trav- 
 ersing the hall, partially descended a broad, 
 winding staircase. 
 
III. 
 
 MIRIAM. 
 
 IT was a long time since he had entered these 
 grand districts of the house, and, closed and 
 deserted, the walls had gathered damp, the 
 panels dust, the whole region a funereal gloom. 
 As he looked down, he saw without surprise, 
 since he had grown incapable of such emotion, 
 that the gay curtains and carpets were dim and 
 faded, the ornaments fallen from their brackets, 
 and thick, silvery, shaking webs woven from cor- 
 nice to cornice of the long drawing-room. He 
 saw without a shudder the rare cast of some 
 antique statue staring sad and forlorn from its 
 nook of tarnished tapestry, like a corpse risen 
 with the mould and mire of the grave upon it ; 
 and no question arose in his mind at the wide- 
 open hall door, and the sweet, fresh draught bear- 
 ing thence through the close rooms. Still look- 
 
38 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 ing down, as if under the influence of another 
 dream that made him motionless, his eye rested 
 011 a figure standing by the old clavichord, and 
 he waited till the dream should pass and the 
 spell loosen its chain. A girl, tall and in the 
 gloom, standing by the old clavichord and noise- 
 lessly moving her fingers over the stained keys. 
 Had he seen her before ? 
 
 A singular face, totally destitute of any roseate 
 glow, but by no means wan, rather, one would 
 say, a soft, creamy skin that should not be other- 
 wise. The chin extremely short and upturned ; 
 the mouth compensating for some width by rich, 
 velvet curves and handsome teeth, the upper 
 lip a haughty, disdainful feature ; the nose well 
 moulded, with thin nostrils, and occupying more 
 than its classical third in length. A face whose 
 first impression was one of peculiar loveliness, 
 the next, a captious sentiment that it was 
 greatly too wide ; but few, perhaps, saw it with- 
 out recurring to the first. The forehead was 
 low and wide, the dark masses of hair sweep- 
 ing off it in a long line, till, dropping with a 
 sudden wave below the cheek, they were looped 
 up again, as Sir Kohan had seen other hair, 
 
MIRIAM. 30 
 
 into a kind of crown-like comb. Eyebrows fine, 
 feuille-morte, and without arch, nearly met 
 across this face ; and beneath, the long-cut 
 waxen lids were heavily fringed. A gleam of 
 sunlight stole timidly through an open shutter, 
 and then in a broad sheet athwart the face, as 
 Sir Rohan observed it. The girl raised her lids 
 in the abrupt illumination. Square as the out- 
 line might be, albeit without the high cheek- 
 bones which characterize tliis class of counte- 
 nance, it was well worth while if that were 
 necessary to give such purport and range and 
 large magnificence to the eyes, soft, dark, 
 lustrous, and bearing a dazzled splendor at the 
 light, through the golden warmth it imparted to 
 them. Ah, well ! Sir Rohan was to paint other 
 eyes to-morrow. 
 
 It pleases me to think that that face, now so 
 fair and soft, never lost the smooth, olive skin, 
 even through the season of a long life, nor sowed 
 its cares in wrinkles when they grew too many 
 for the heart to bear alone ; nor that those eyes 
 lost their brilliant kindliness, though wearing for- 
 ever the frightened aspect which one cruel day 
 was to give them, though never, when the snow 
 
40 SIK ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 of weary years lay between age and youth, dar- 
 ing to look back and sun themselves in the 
 gleam of any lost happiness, though borrowing 
 all their joy from those Beulah hill-tops which 
 only the old have in certain prospect. Yet there 
 was something in the face which led you not 
 so much to its owner as its authors, till you 
 lost yourself conjecturing under what conditions 
 and circumstances it had obtained life. A pecu- 
 liar face, had Sir Rohan seen it before? "Was 
 it his Ghost, come in tangible form but was 
 it tangible ? Pshaw ! did it not flash on him 
 from the travelling-chariot? Did ghosts wear 
 long cloaks half untied and pulling apart from 
 the confining cord ; or gowns, just seen beneath, 
 of a fawn brocade, to harmonize with the other 
 brown shades ; or antique jewels and a moon- 
 stone carcanet? Did ghosts touch the uncom- 
 pliant keys of clavichords, and entice thence 
 sweet, unfamiliar sounds ? Unfamiliar, only 
 too well known, indeed ! Could it be anything 
 but his persistent enemy who played, with the 
 long, slender fingers of her left hand, the very 
 melody to whose tune the sorrow of his life had 
 been this day set? The sunshine that had been 
 
MIRIAM. 41 
 
 creeping along the once gorgeous pattern of the 
 floor, nestling and mingling with the yellow 
 tinges there, stole up across the foot, the tall 
 figure whose drapery fluttered in the increasing 
 draft, the queenly neck, and withdrew behind a 
 cloud, while the girl began humming the same 
 tune and beating a gentle time with her head. 
 
 Sir Rohan, recovered himself, concluding that 
 the supernatural was not an agent in this appa- 
 rition. It was a tune common enough in Kent, 
 he had first heard it there ; she was probably a 
 Kentish girl, too charming a piece of flesh and 
 blood ever to throw off for filmy, impalpable 
 essence. If his Ghost came in that shape, she 
 might stay while she pleased. But was not his 
 Ghost a fairer shape, whose dead eclipsed this 
 living, breathing beauty ? Why think of it ? 
 It was pleasure enough, for one revelling in form 
 and color, only to gaze, as he did, on the pic- 
 ture to which the drawing-room door below was 
 frame ; to ask by what means she had entered 
 his house did not occur to him. Before Sir Ro- 
 han began to reason, the tune had ceased, and* 
 while he gazed, the girl, glancing round, glided 
 up the apartment out of sight. He remained a 
 
 4* 
 
42 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 moment, and then, half doubting himself, stole 
 back upon his steps. Two questioning eyes in 
 every darker shadow sought his own, and a long- 
 drawn sob was audible beside him, as, quick- 
 ening his motions, he sprang up the stairs and 
 confronted two men on the upper landing ; one 
 was his gray-haired steward. 
 
 "I have been seeking your worship," said he, 
 timorously, but without reply, for the other had 
 seized Sir Rohan's hands, and was pouring forth 
 rapid question and answer over a long-lost friend. 
 
 " I am not dreaming, then ! " said Sir Rohan 
 unsteadily, at last. " This is you, St. Denys, 
 and your daughter below ? " 
 
 " I, certainly," was the cheery response, " and 
 my ward below. God give me long life ! for the 
 name and fame of St. Denys flow to a rascal 
 when I die." 
 
 " We won't talk of dying," said Sir Rohan, 
 looking behind him quickly, " and while we live 
 will grasp what we may. How did you find 
 me?" 
 
 " In the simplest way conceivable. We lunched 
 at an inn yclept the Belvidere Arms, and, remem- 
 bering that you buried yoiirself at one time in 
 
MIRIAM. 43 
 
 Cornwall, I inquired for its patron. Still, I had 
 difficulty in recognizing our gay youth in one 
 taciturn, possessed gentleman, till mine host 
 christened him Sir Rohan ! " 
 
 The old man had withdrawn. " Something 
 ails you, Rohan," said his friend. " You are in 
 trouble ! " 
 
 " The weather and a walk," was the hurried 
 answer, " and and dyspepsia ! " 
 
 " Parent of all blue devils ! Come down to 
 this dungeon of yours, into which I have taken 
 the liberty of inviting some sky, alias light and 
 air." 
 
 " My friend can take no liberty in my house." 
 
 A merry bow from the friend prefaced a pre- 
 scription for good health and spirits, which closed 
 by recommending good company. " For which 
 purpose " 
 
 " The sky has fallen and dropped you here." 
 
 " And consequently I shall see a rapid im- 
 provement in Monsieur le Cadavre ! " 
 
 Sir Rohan shuddered again. " I am better," 
 he said directly, " already better." And indeed 
 his friend would have been like a bracing wind 
 blowing through sultry fever regions, did not 
 
44 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 his unfortunate choice of words act as a series 
 of electric shocks, constantly thrilling his patient. 
 By this time they were in the drawing-room. 
 
 " This is a drawing-room of the Belvidere 
 estate in Cornwall, Sir Rohan," said his friend. 
 " Probably a place unfamiliar to you." 
 
 " I should be, perhaps, ashamed to say that a 
 quinquenniad has passed since I have stood in 
 it," replied he whose Ghost had at least taught 
 him to discriminate delicate shades of truth. 
 
 " And this is Miriam, my child." 
 
 As the girl turned to receive his salutation, 
 he extended his hand. Shy as a bird, her own 
 dropped into it an instant, and brushed away 
 again. Yet there was something positive in that 
 slight touch ; most different in its soft, warm sense 
 from the gelid grasp that had so often met his 
 palm, more real it could not be. 
 
 " I am very happy," said he, with a grave 
 courtesy which had lost nothing from disuse, " in 
 welcoming the child of St. Denys to my house, 
 although but a dreary place to shelter youth 
 and beauty." 
 
 " Well, well," laughed his friend, " a candle 
 would not be brilliant in sunny windows." 
 
MIRIAM. 45 
 
 " But she has brought the sun in with her." 
 
 Miriam raised her large, wary eyes, and, throw- 
 ing back the haughty head, surveyed her host 
 with quick displeasure, motions which did not 
 escape Sir Rohan. 
 
 " I am at a loss as to what title " he be- 
 gan, turning to St. Denys, who interrupted him, 
 saying, as he laid his hand caressingly upon her 
 shoulder, 
 
 " No need ! Since the morning she had been 
 sixteen years my darling, this child has been 
 afflicted with a whim, and throws off my name 
 and protection and love " 
 
 " Not your love or your protection, father," 
 she murmured, quickly. 
 
 " And chooses," he added, " to be known only 
 as Miss Miriam." 
 
 " And why ? " escaped Sir Rohan's lips before 
 he could recall it. Yet he had been waiting to 
 hear that voice address him, and now it came, 
 low, clear, and full of inflections. 
 
 " Because I have no other name," she replied 
 instantly, and with a proud gesture which the 
 possession of sixty titles could not have enhanced. 
 He seemed to have heard it elsewhere. 
 
46 
 
 " Pardon ! I was born for mistakes on this 
 afternoon, I think." 
 
 "Sir Rohan, Miriam, was my friend before 
 you knew the light, and seeing less and less of 
 him as years passed, I soon saw nothing. In 
 a while wondrous rumors reached us from the 
 corners of the earth, then all sounds were lost, 
 and here he is. "Where is your housekeeper, 
 Rohan ? " with a quizzical look at the existing 
 neglect. 
 
 " I have none. My steward's maid attends to 
 my necessities." 
 
 " I doubt if she can do so much for me ! " 
 
 " As exacting as ever," returned the other, 
 with an absent smile. " We will soon find ser- 
 vants enough." 
 
 " A sorry day for them, if spiders can make 
 it," exclaimed St. Denys, tossing off a tawny 
 Arachne who danced, on a long-spun thread from 
 the dusky ceiling, across his face. 
 
 " And if I confess that this is the best room 
 I have, what will my guests think ? " 
 
 "That the drawing-room generally occupies that 
 rank among apartments, and that the little femi- 
 nine element so bustling in my home may effect, 
 
MIRIAM. 47 
 
 by your permission, a slight revolution in the 
 shape of two sleeping-rooms here ! What say 
 you, Miriam ? " 
 
 " If Sir Rohan desire it " 
 
 " By no means," said Sir Rohan. " The young 
 lady is wearied with her journey. It will be un- 
 necessary ; " and excusing himself, he soon found 
 the old steward, who was awaiting him in anxiety 
 of mind. 
 
 "Let your wife, Redruth, move herself and 
 maids up here, at what salary you please," said 
 his master. " Procure other servants from the 
 village at once. We will dine at six, and let two 
 bedchambers be cleansed and aired by twelve." 
 Having received which orders, and it being now 
 nearly four, the steward scrambled away to per- 
 form impossibilities, and Sir Rohan ascended to 
 his own room. Without bestowing a glance on 
 his painting, he wheeled the great chair out upon 
 the landing, and, in a moment after, descended 
 and deposited it inside the drawing-room. The 
 yoimg lady was walking up and down, with her 
 skirts gathered in one hand from the floor, and 
 her brow wearing an expression of combined 
 amusement and annoyance, as Sir Rohan opened 
 
48 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 a casement, and shoved it over the smooth ter- 
 race. 
 
 "You will find it less dusty and sufficiently 
 cool, Miss Miriam, without, "he said, and in order 
 to conduct her there, he again offered his hand. 
 She looked round, however, for his friend, and 
 stepping across the sill, lightly planted St. Denys 
 in the chair, and took her own seat upon the turf 
 at his feet. " She 's tired," she said as St. Denys 
 laid her head against the cushions of the chair, 
 and, dropping the lids from her first gaze that 
 crept across the woods, then up the distant fields 
 to the lawn below, and finally rested on the smooth 
 cheek, she slept the deep sleep of a healthy child. 
 
 " I do not understand," said Sir Rohan, leaning 
 against the window. " Is this your daughter who 
 says father to you ? " 
 
 " You are very slow, then ! "We make believe, 
 as children do. Seriously, though, you know I 
 do not hold in chance, and thus I take my acci- 
 dents as commissions from God. So when we 
 heard of this child, then some five weeks old, a 
 foundling in the house of a tenant, we took her 
 home ; and the woman, an old dame who had 
 found and sheltered the babe on some tramp or 
 
MIRIAM. 49 
 
 journey, we judged would be the best nurse. 
 And she has been God's gift to sweeten a bitter 
 draught he poured out for me not long after. 
 So, she is my daughter." 
 
 "It is many years since we met." 
 
 " That, indeed. Nearly' a score." 
 
 " You married ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And your wife ? " 
 
 His friend paused as if heaving the weighty 
 words from some painful depth. " I lost her." 
 
 " Still unfound ? " 
 
 "One day I hope to find her. She is dead." 
 
 It did not seem so sorrowful a thing to Sir 
 Rohan ; or if he had the pity, he was compelled 
 to probe the wound. 
 
 "She died suddenly?" he asked. 
 
 " By a long illness, a year after Miriam came." 
 
 "And has never returned, you have never 
 seen her since ? " 
 
 " Rohan ! " 
 
 " I am vexed to have occasioned an unpleasant 
 thought. And who named the child, Miriam ? " 
 
 " My wife." 
 
 "It is strange to know no more about her." 
 
 5 i> 
 
50 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " Yes. % "We met with no clew. Her nurse died 
 some five years since ; I often wondered if she 
 had no information, but she denied with genuine 
 surprise when questioned .once. Yet on dying, 
 she called Miriam and whispered to her." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " I never asked." 
 
 "You are very simple, then," said his inter- 
 locutor. 
 
 " Changing parts," said St. Denys. " You, 
 Rohan ! have you married ? " 
 
 A sudden spasm of pain darted through Sir 
 Rohan. The happy humble-bee, swimming home- 
 ward honey-laden through the air, could not have 
 stung so savagely, nor have caused him to spring, 
 like one shot, from his station. However, im- 
 mediately resuming his self-possession, " No," 
 he answered. 
 
 "All? There was a legend among us, I re- 
 member, just after we parted with you, that 
 you were buried with some sweetheart, some 
 beautiful peasant-girl, now in the depths of these 
 Cornish haunts, and then in that forlorn tower 
 of yours at the North." 
 
 " A legend, like most others, more pretty than 
 
MIRIAM. 51 
 
 true," returned Sir Rohan, with a shade more 
 pallor on his face. 
 
 " You wear proof-armor, then ? " 
 
 "Not at all. I adopt bolder tactics, and 
 wear none. A noble archer does not strike the 
 defenceless." 
 
 "Never doubt but your turn will come." 
 
 Sir Rohan did not reply, and it was some 
 time before St. Denys spoke again. 
 
 " And how do you pass your time ? " said he, 
 at last. 
 
 " As you see ; at the last profession I have 
 adopted painting and in deadly self-intro- 
 spection." 
 
 "Ah! and you see no company?" 
 
 "You are the first." 
 
 " Have you exhibited any paintings yet ? " 
 
 "None. I have never finished any of suffi- 
 cient worth to look on myself." 
 
 " But you intend it ? " 
 
 " Hardly." 
 
 " Great goodness, Rohan ! What a wretched 
 life ! No wonder you are sad as a masque of 
 tragedy! Why don't you kill yourself?" 
 
 Another spasm of pain. " Then I also should 
 be a Ghost ! " he exclaimed vehemently. 
 
52 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 The guest sprang up in alarm, but Sir Rohan 
 relapsed to his former stern reticence, with his 
 eyes bent fixedly upon the distance- A momen- 
 tary doubt of the sanity of this recluse overpow- 
 ered St. Denys, and he may have trembled lest 
 he had brought his treasure into the den of a 
 madman. But the tenderness of his nature 
 soon regained its balance, and he reflected, with 
 pity, that the unhappy man's loneliness was ru- 
 inous. Nevertheless, his sudden movement had 
 roused the girl from her convenient nap, who 
 looked round amazed an instant, and then rose 
 laughingly. No flush of sleep stained her cheek ; 
 her haughty coolness seemed as involuntary as 
 her breath. Just stepping from the footprints 
 of the child into the sadder ways of womanhood, 
 she walked almost as if conscious of fate, with 
 a quick, impetuous gait, to meet it. 
 
 " Mistress Miriam wears the air of a Spartan," 
 said St. Denys. 
 
 " Rather like the Brown Girl of the Ballad," 
 Sir Rohan returned. 
 
 "Alas for fair Elinor if I confront her with 
 my bodkin!" laughed the Brown Girl. 
 
 The image of an Elinor who might, instead, 
 
MIRIAM. 53 
 
 meet her, glimmered before Sir Rohan, blotting 
 out the young face that laughed without dim- 
 ples, and he turned away to evade it. 
 
 Miriam stooped over the chair. "He is very 
 strange, this friend of yours, papa, with his 
 sudden ways and mouldy house. Don't stay 
 here long," she whispered. 
 
 "He is too unhappy, and perhaps ill, to be 
 left longer in this state. Entertain him while 
 here, and perhaps he will go with us." 
 
 Miriam raised her eyebrows and her shoulders 
 as if the prospect did not charm her. 
 
 " Do you suppose he means to starve us ? " 
 she said. 
 
 "Young ladies who take naps in company 
 should have courage " 
 
 " But I was so tired ! " 
 
 " Here he comes, if you should ask him ! " 
 
 "0 no, no, papa!" 
 
 "Miriam has a question to propose," said he, 
 as Sir Rohan drew near again. 
 
 " Hush ! " she whispered. 
 
 " Can I answer it ? " 
 
 "By the help of all your formulas and sta- 
 tistics," said the other. 
 
54 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 She turned with a pretty mixture of defiance 
 and shame. " I am hungry," she said. 
 
 " An extraordinary question, which I hope 
 dinner will answer. Let iis hunt some up." 
 
 " I wonder," thought she, " if we shall have 
 to eat it, standing, from the shelves of the 
 larder." 
 
 " I wonder," thought he, " if there is anything 
 in the house to eat." And he led the way 
 back through the drawing-room and hall, to 
 what had once been a sumptuous dining-room. 
 
 Less out of repair than the other apartments, 
 it was yet large, gloomy, and from its solitary 
 occupant, almost out of use. Nevertheless, since 
 noon it had experienced a slight rearrange- 
 ment; the glass doors of the cabinets and buf- 
 fet had been washed, the walnut floor swept 
 and polished, and curious pieces of furniture 
 had been ransacked from other rooms. The 
 table was laid with bountiful folds of snowy 
 linen, ancient plate, and costly china ; for where- 
 in Sir Rohan, during these desolate years, had 
 suffered himself to be served at all, he had 
 caused himself to be served well ; and, frugal as 
 he was, had insisted on a certain table etiquette, 
 
MIRIAM. 55 
 
 though the equipage were untouched by him 
 from day till dusk. 
 
 It was a dark room, and the glittering table 
 occupied but a small corner of it. As Miriam 
 entered, she swept forward and threw open the 
 heavy shutters of the window behind it, and 
 sent a glad burst of light through the place. 
 Looking out, she disappeared, and in a moment 
 returned with an armful of white raspberry- 
 blossoms, and long wreaths of the purple night- 
 shade, and heaped them in a large vase upon 
 the sideboard. 
 
 " A bush for the wine," she said. 
 
 " And good wine needs no bush," returned 
 Sir Rohan. 
 
 A white rose overlaced the window, and has- 
 tily gathering a few stems, they were placed in 
 a glass upon the table ; but not one was perfect, 
 every rose bearing a small, brown taint, ob- 
 serving which, she as quickly dashed them away. 
 
 " Perhaps Sir Rohan does not like flowers at 
 dinner," said St. Denys. 
 
 " Excuse me," she cried, turning tartly. 
 "We have them always, they are so cheerful." 
 
 "A new ornament. I like them," responded 
 
56 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 Sir Rohan, and, absently tearing off a spray of 
 the nightshade, he presented it* to her, saying, 
 "It agrees well with the Carthaginian hair." 
 
 " I seldom wear flowers," she exclaimed ; add- 
 ing instantly, " Yet these gorgeous stars, with 
 their gold-drops at centre, tempt too much," 
 and she hung them in the heavily festooned tress 
 next Sir Rohan. A moment afterward the dishes 
 were brought in by amazed waiters, and a stately 
 servant stationed himself behind the host's chair. 
 All formality was banished at the onset, when 
 Miriam, to avoid spilling her soup, overset a de- 
 canter whose contents ran down the table in a 
 red stream, just as, from his sudden movement, 
 Sir Rohan's soup probably burned his mouth. 
 Whereupon, hiding her embarrassment, she broke 
 forth into merry quip and sally, till the room 
 rung with her gay voice, and long before they 
 rose, the pale Sir Rohan paused confounded at 
 the sound of his own laughter. 
 
 Meanwhile a great noise and hurry had been 
 holding high carnival in the region of the guest- 
 chambers. Long since, large fires had been roar- 
 ing up the chimneys notwithstanding the heat, 
 beds had been airing, carpets spread, and coarse, 
 
MIRIAM. 
 
 57 
 
 clean linen from Mrs. Redruth's laundry waving 
 in lavendered folds across bedposts and ward- 
 robes. The maids were bustling about sufficiently 
 for enjoyment, and the general racket was such 
 as had not scared the echoes of this dead old 
 house for half a century. But only an intermit- 
 tent buzz reached the remote dining-room, where, 
 dinner being concluded and the gentlemen not 
 caring to sit over their wine, it was decided to 
 remain, rather than adjourn to the dingy draw- 
 ing-room; for through some fine sense, Sir Ro- 
 han felt an approaching danger, and this was a 
 more familiar place than the other. 
 
 " How dark it is ! " said Miriam. " An odd 
 day of odd adventures. I smell thunder." And 
 looking out, they all saw a large, brassy cloud 
 driving swiftly over the paling sunset, and spher- 
 ing the sky with ominous splendor. Miriam had 
 taken a seat directly before the open window, 
 and neither of the others were far off. Recall- 
 ing old times, the two gentlemen had long con- 
 ducted the conversation, when gradually silence 
 fell, gathering an increasing awe as loud thun- 
 ders broke close above them, letting sharp light- 
 ning slip piercingly down. 
 
58 
 
 "When we were descending the Alps, last 
 summer," said Miriam, " riding through a thun- 
 der-storm, the lightnings came and played round 
 our feet." 
 
 " But I hardly think it rained so, there," said 
 St. Denys, as one vast sheet gushed in torrents 
 from the low bosom of the impending cloud, 
 appearing, in the uninterrupted flashes that illu- 
 minated every drop, like a rain of fire. Sir Ro- 
 han sat leaning his head upon one hand, but 
 with a singular alertness and vigilance apparent 
 in his whole figure. Electric thrills had been 
 coursing through his blood, till his fingers tingled 
 and his eyes sparkled. 
 
 " Sir Rohan," exclaimed Miriam, " I believe 
 if I should touch you, you would flash ! " 
 
 "Try, Miss Miriam." 
 
 The same delicate, airy finger-touch met his a 
 second. 
 
 " Ah, well ! " laughed she ; " you did n't, but 
 it 's because you are cold as death." The word 
 made him wince. 
 
 " Are you afraid ? " she continued. 
 
 " No. It is a constitutional weakness, I fancy, 
 something involuntary, so that in every thunder- 
 
MIRIAM. 59 
 
 storm an unwelcome force and intelligence of 
 life crowds down, and is as suddenly wrung 
 away, leaving me with an unaccountable depres- 
 sion, limp and wilted." 
 
 "We heard a fanatic preacher, yesterday," 
 said Miriam, after a short pause, " who, I should 
 think, was fulfilling the promise of his text, to- 
 day. A strange-looking man, with long, white 
 hair, pale face, and glittering eyes, and dressed 
 in a dusty gray gown as if just off a long 
 journey. He looked like some old shade. 
 His text was, ' To-morrow I will stand on the 
 top of the hill, with the rod of God in my 
 hand.' " 
 
 As she spoke, a more dreadful crash than had 
 yet been heard split the heavy air, and a bolt of 
 flame fell at not a dozen paces' distance, while 
 the withered branches of an old poplar shot 
 forth simultaneously a hundred sparks, and a 
 tower of fire streamed up in defiance. 
 
 " The chariot of Israel, and the horsemen 
 thereof," ejaculated St. Denys ; but almost before 
 he ceased, the light went out, leaving only the 
 charred trunk standing boldly against the low 
 gleam of the horizon. 
 
60 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 A throstle shook the rose-vines over the win- 
 dow, and .whistled clearly a sweet charm against 
 the rain. 
 
 "And behold the Lord passed by," said Miri- 
 am, "and a great and strong wind rent the 
 mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before 
 the Lord ; but the Lord was not in the wind : 
 and after the wind, an earthquake ; but the 
 Lord was not in the earthquake: and after the 
 earthquake, a fire ; but the Lord was not in the 
 fire : and after the fire a still, small voice." 
 
 Sir Rohan's head fell forward into his hands, 
 and no one broke the stillness. 
 
 The storm had spent its violence, and was 
 rolling away to the north. The rain still pat- 
 tered from leaf to leaf, and poured off in plen- 
 teous streams down deserted alleys and ruined 
 garden-walks. Darkness crept up from the dis- 
 tant corners, and brooded round them; but 
 blacker shadows had already wrapt Sir Rohan, 
 and he silently warred with them. 
 
 Still sitting there, a light, timid pressure was 
 laid upon his shoulder, growing bold enough to 
 remain. He knew it was Miriam, and did not 
 turn. A sweet, strong influence seemed to flow 
 
MIRIAM. 61 
 
 to him from this gentle imposition of hands, a 
 sense of peace to envelop him ; and long, re- 
 joicing under the delicious consciousness of reviv- 
 ing strength and vigor, he would have sat, had 
 the touch long continued. But as if aware of 
 his desire, she perversely flitted away, and open- 
 ing the door into the lighted hall, suffered its 
 gleam to irradiate the gloom. 
 
 "You are too sudden in your movements, 
 child," said St. Denys, as she swept over a clat- 
 tering chair in her way. 
 
 " And I was growing dainty as a lady with my 
 fingers," she rejoined. " It 's not my fault ; but 
 something about the house, some sprite twitches 
 them." 
 
 " Do you think the miraculous would stoop 
 into Sir Rohan's dining-room ? " 
 
 " I don't care, papa. I want to hear that 
 ghost-story. I came for that. It's just the 
 house to be haunted, unless the fragrance of 
 paints and oils does not agree with their honors, 
 and just the hour. We have a ghost at the 
 Castle, but he has been quiet so long as to afford 
 no amusement. We were brought here, too, in 
 a miraculous manner." 
 
 6 
 
62 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " You are absurd, Miriam," said St. Denys, 
 with a smile. " Be quiet." 
 
 " Don't you know, Sir Rohan," she continued 
 disregardfully, "that animals brutes, of course 
 are said to perceive apparitions more quickly 
 than men ? Last night we were on the road 
 very late, and going smoothly, when suddenly 
 the horses began to caper from side to side, 
 dashed into a lane, and then through a broken 
 hedge, racing over the moor like hounds till 
 they pulled up near another highway, and to- 
 day that road took us to the village below here, 
 where we had not intended to stop, and which 
 was, you know, quite out of our way. It 's a 
 wonder our necks were n't broken. The coach- 
 man told me that he knew the creatures met 
 the Swairth, that he himself saw something 
 swinging, white and shining, before them, and 
 nothing could have tempted him to proceed. 
 He told of it at the inn, and they said very 
 likely it belonged up here ; that it was the 
 wraith of some forlorn woman of your house, 
 and that, if papa had a tourist's curiosity, we 
 should find some pictures here, and might see 
 the wraith for our selves. So you perceive the 
 
MIRIAM. b6 
 
 Thing brought us here, and I wait for the story. 
 Have n't you a ghost, Sir Rohan ? " 
 
 A class of words which Sir Rohan had grown 
 to avoid even in his thought, was now perpetually 
 dropping from the lips of his guests, and he 
 expended his energy nerving himself against the 
 abrupt attacks. 
 
 " No ghost ? " persisted Miriam. 
 
 " My ancestors never had one," he replied, in 
 a low, distinct tone, the volume of his voice com- 
 pressed from trembling. 
 
 " But you ! have you no phantom, no spectre ? " 
 
 " Pardon me if I say that you confound the 
 terms." 
 
 " Have you, then, found any difference between 
 ghosts and spectres ? " questioned St. De'nys, 
 
 gayly. 
 
 " There should be a distinction. A spectre 
 seems rather to have risen from the grave, to 
 own a glimmering shroud, to carry with it the 
 smell of the dead and the air of vaults and cof- 
 fins. But a ghost! A ghost," said Sir Rohan, 
 " is a very different thing." 
 
 "Then you have nothing to tell us?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
64 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " And I am positively cheated ? " 
 "You must forgive the rural superstition." 
 " Well. If one opening fails, I can try an- 
 other. I am a meteoromant, you know, an in- 
 heritance of certain people. I know a charm to 
 ward off the Evil Eye." 
 
 " And that surprises no one, Miss Miriam." 
 " Nonsense ! I tell papa's fortune often enough, 
 and it comes true often enough." 
 "And what is St. Denys's fortune?" 
 " He was born to trouble and much peace. 
 Begin as I will, these words always come and I 
 must say them, trouble, yet much peace." 
 
 " You divine by thunder and lightning, and, 
 having called your imps around you, would now 
 tell 'me my fate, is it so?" and he extended 
 his hand. 
 
 " Yes," poring over the hand gingerly, without 
 taking it. " But there 's no fortune for you, 
 good or bad. I should think your life had been 
 wiped out ; there 's not a line on the palm. 
 Alackaday, kind gentleman," said she, assuming 
 the sing-song gypsy tone, "great evil have you 
 waded through, and greater is to come. Small 
 pleasure will you know in life, and in sorrow 
 will you die." 
 
MIRIAM. 65 
 
 " A fortune not at all new," said Sir Rohan, 
 dismally. 
 
 " Was it true ? " she asked. 
 
 " You should know best." 
 
 " Papa says I don't know at all. But the fact 
 is, that once when I was a child I fell in with 
 some gypsies wandering through Kent, who fan- 
 cied me strangely like themselves, taught me 
 half their singular words and ways, and never 
 come by the Castle now but they leave me a 
 cake of rich and costly condiments ; so the 
 housekeeper wrote. An odd life, that of the 
 woods, with a relish that no other life pos- 
 sesses. One would feel, I should think, living 
 an outlaw in those deep recesses, like all the 
 rest of the wild growth there, the lichen 
 on the trees, the little wood-pigeons, the six- 
 striped snakes that shoot from under one brown 
 leaf to another like darts of poison, feel as 
 if life ceased with death, if indeed death ever 
 came there. I wonder why you never followed 
 it, Sir Rohan, among your other adventures." 
 
 Sir Rohan did not think it necessary to tell 
 her of the solitary days and nights he had spent 
 housed with * the cold-crowned snake,' and meet- 
 
 6* E 
 
66 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 ing no response, she commenced pacing the long 
 room, humming in a low key to herself. As 
 she walked, the nightshade in her hair emitted 
 a heavy fragrance, and having flung it down, 
 she stole from the room. In a short time Sir 
 Rohan heard a sweet strain wafting along, and 
 recognized the tones of the old clavichord, soft- 
 ened by distance and winding toward them with 
 a gentle insinuation. Trifles were now indeed the 
 sum of his life, and he waited in horrified sus- 
 pense till the indistinct prelude should unravel 
 into the tune that so powerfully affected him. 
 But when the voice joined the instrument, there 
 rose, instead, the solemnly chanted opening of 
 the song of Deborah. 
 
 "A voice as sweet as wild honey in the crev- 
 ices of rocks," said Sir Rohan. 
 
 St. Denys had fallen into a doze, but awak- 
 ened by the music, saw Sir Rohan bending for- 
 ward, his hands upon his knees, spell-bound, like 
 some old Egyptian statue. Still the voice, a rich 
 mezzo-soprano of great compass, sang sweetly on, 
 thrilling the hearers through the warlike spirit 
 clashing and chiming with its melody. A pas- 
 toral simplicity was reigning over this portion 
 
MIRIAM. 67 
 
 of her chant, sinking gradually into quick, hur- 
 rying lower notes, till the earthly allies of the 
 Israelites were numbered, when a lofty chord 
 rolled up in a succession of broad flashes, an- 
 nouncing the helps which Nature sent to the 
 battle. 
 
 " They fought from heaven," she sang. " The 
 stars in their courses fought against Sisera." 
 
 A deep groan escaped Sir Rohan, and he grew 
 rigid as iron. " The stars in their courses fought 
 against Sisera ! " he repeated. 
 
 " The river of Kishon, that ancient river, the 
 river Kishon swept them away," proclaimed the 
 victorious voice. "0 my soul, thou hast trod- 
 den down strength ! " 
 
 Sir Rohan would gladly have laid aside that 
 vigilance which he had worn for years, had it 
 been possible ; but no oblivion came to his aid, 
 no confusion of sound or sense would drown the 
 words. 
 
 " Curse ye Meroz, said the angel of the Lord," 
 she sang, clear as a clarion across the fray. 
 " Curse ye bitterly " when the loud snap of 
 a rusty wire broke the burden suddenly. Sir 
 Rohan rose and stood in the starlight, gazing 
 
68 
 
 out as if blindly protesting against the sentence. 
 The summer night had slowly deepened, a gentle 
 wind was lightly tossing fragrance from the rank 
 flower-blooms without, rain dripped now and then 
 with a low plash from the eaves. A sudden 
 meteor shot across the sky, leaving a track of 
 shining light where the eternal stars glowed 
 coldly, untouched and unchanged in their places. 
 What was the misery of one creature to them, 
 he thought ; but higher than they he dared not 
 send a murmur. 
 
 Miriam speaking to Mrs. Redruth was now 
 heard, and in a moment after, singing gently 
 other verses of the chant, and armed with a 
 taper, she came down the hall into the dining- 
 room. It was like the angel who, entering pur- 
 gatory, struck the first dreadful letter from 
 Dante's forehead, Sir Rohan thought. 
 
 " I have accomplished to-night what two gen- 
 erations have failed to do. I have ruined your 
 clavichord, Sir Rohan ! " she said, gayly. 
 
 " To-morrow, then, we may hear that voice 
 without a foil," he replied ; " weak and thin, a 
 strident griding foil, like the cricket three months 
 hence." 
 
MIRIAM. 69 
 
 Going to St. Denys, she received his good-night 
 kiss, whispering, " Our rooms are in the same 
 hall, papa, or I should be afraid." 
 
 " Good night, Miss Miriam." 
 
 " I wish you a good-night, Sir Rohan," was 
 the demure response. 
 
 On the landing she paused to protect her candle 
 from the draught, and as her happy unconscious 
 voice fell downward, they heard her still singing 
 from the chant of the Prophetess : 
 
 " At her feet he bowed, he fell, he lay down ; 
 at her feet he bowed, he fell : where he bowed, 
 there he fell down dead." A door slammed, the 
 voice died, and all was still. 
 
 " And the evening and the morning were the 
 first day," said Sir Rohan, as, when the clock 
 struck one, he showed the remaining guest his 
 room, and left him. 
 
 Seeking the steward, he gave some orders for 
 cleansing and restoring the drawing-room next 
 day. " You will remain for the present, Red- 
 ruth," said he, " and I suppose it makes no 
 difference to your wife." 
 
 " Lord bless you, no, sir ! And right glad are 
 we both at seeing your worship brighten a little. 
 
70 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 For all these long years you 've been so dull 
 and moping like, my woman says " 
 
 Here, utterly confused and filled with abash- 
 ment at the stern surprise with which his master 
 regarded him, the steward hesitated, stammered 
 an apology, and bowed himself away ; whereon 
 Sir Rohan sought his painting-room. 
 
 All things there were as he left them, the 
 brushes in the vase where they had been plunged, 
 and the window open for the entrance of exha- 
 lations from the adjacent salt-marshes. Hastily 
 closing it, he took the candle in his hand to 
 look at his picture. It seemed to Sir Rohan 
 as if he were becoming, since noon, more and 
 more the master of himself, all the past events 
 of his life a dream, and nothing real but this 
 day. What consternation overwhelmed him, then, 
 when on approaching the canvas, with the light 
 in his hand, every trace of the painting had dis- 
 appeared, no glimpse was to be observed there, 
 nothing, in fact, but here and there a streak of 
 some positive color, and the two staring patches 
 of lime and soda! A cold perspiration beaded 
 his forehead as he saw all this weary work ab- 
 sorbed and expunged. Did Destiny thus with 
 
MIRIAM. 71 
 
 one touch cancel the promise of years ? Was 
 it possible that, in drawing the Ghost's eyes from 
 his picture, she had revenged herself by drawing 
 after them the whole ? Justice, not Yengeance, 
 he said to himself; and with a sullen despair 
 confessed that had the Ghost desired those cruel 
 eyes to remain, no power of his could have ef- 
 faced them. Again alone, his phantasms, and 
 not he, ruled. 
 
 Setting down the candle, he stooped forward 
 and searched the work eagerly. Low in one 
 corner, a vermilion fillet close upon a mass of 
 unspeakably precious ultra-marine ; further up, 
 some dim outline, obscured by a smoky air that 
 curled across the whole. That was all. But 
 as he searched atom by atom, he caught gleams 
 of his former design, and, recalling by the help 
 of memory line after line, the truth flashed 
 upon his mind. His picture should have been 
 full of purple shades ; yellow, neutralized pur- 
 ple. As this idea seized him, the candle, which 
 was flaring in its socket, dipt and fell into dark- 
 ness, disclosing the moonlight that fell through 
 the panes and overlay his easel. He waited for 
 the effect. Slowly struggling in the beams, the 
 
72 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 dubious shades wrought themselves out upon 
 his vision, till with ineffable satisfaction he saw 
 every particle of his work, still uiidestroyed, 
 resolve dimly in the uncertain light. He would 
 have endured as much more pain for the sharp 
 pleasure that now flushed and filled him. Pur- 
 ple, then, vanished by candle-light, he had discov- 
 ered ; and thus through his own suffering and fail- 
 ures he was instructed. Throwing himself upon 
 the lounge, he slept his first unbroken slumber 
 since he had endeavored to install art in the 
 place of the Ghost. 
 
IV. 
 
 THE WINE-CELLAK. 
 
 SIR ROHAN was awakened at morning by the 
 sound of gay voices on the lawn so long 
 consecrated to silence, and so frequently the 
 battle-ground of the Ghost. 
 
 Having performed an unusually elaborate toilet, 
 he paused at an open balcony window in the up- 
 per hall, and looked out. The lawn was not 
 large, but, after descending a few terraces, quite 
 even, green, and bordered with azalia-bushes, 
 snowy camellias, purple rhododendrons in their 
 glory, and, where the full wealth of a southern 
 sun lay, a few superb ferns and rosy oleanders ; 
 the whole enclosed and sheltered from the At- 
 lantic blasts by mighty firs, dropping their boughs 
 with rings of shadow low upon the sward. A 
 grape-vine clambered from branch to branch of 
 these, weaving a natural trellis, and hanging 
 
 7 
 
74 
 
 great bunches of dewy beryl and emerald on the 
 sombre green of its support. Here Sir Rohan 
 had spent the prime of many mornings, striving 
 to weary thought and seeking inspiration for 
 his work while training blossom and tending 
 root; and here the Ghost had always followed 
 him, at first with gentle enticing and sad blan- 
 dishments, and then with sudden intimations of 
 terror and the whole armory of her ghastly 
 array. Now, near the foot of the lawn, Miriam, 
 having twisted a, wreath of the flaming azalias 
 in her black hair one long lock of which al- 
 ready streamed over her white dress, was throw- 
 ing clusters of the iinused blossoms at St. Denys, 
 who repaid her warmly, while after every missile 
 she tossed a laugh. Just as she had raised her 
 hands both of them full of the blazing flowers, a 
 sudden exclamation from St. Denys checked her, 
 and turning swiftly, she saw Sir Rohan at the win- 
 dow above. Slightly abashed at proving herself 
 a romp before this grave, quiet man, she dropped 
 half her trophies and stood irresolute a second, 
 winding the loose tress about her fingers ; then, 
 glancing up, she laughed again, threw the re- 
 mainder of her brilliant store at Sir Rohan, and 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 75 
 
 spreading her dress in either hand, swept him a 
 broad courtesy. 
 
 How the face changes, thought Sir Rohan. 
 What variety of expression ! It is like a star 
 on troubled waters when the tide comes in. 
 " St. Denys deserves the happiness he finds in 
 his child," he said, and returning her greeting, 
 he soon joined them at the table. 
 
 After breakfast, St. Denys determining to 
 walk to the post-town, Sir Rohan, wrapped in 
 a long cloak, the invariable garb of his wander- 
 ings, accompanied him, leaving Miriam, as she 
 desired, in the tumult caused by the disarray 
 of the drawing-room ; where, on returning a 
 few hours later, they found her, still revelling 
 in the confusion, in close communion with Mrs. 
 Redruth, and a bosom friend of half the maids. 
 All the shutters were open, and floods of un- 
 wonted sunshine filled the room till every mote 
 was alchemized to gold. 
 
 "Another Danae !" said Sir Rohan, as she stood 
 surrounded and transfigured in the radiance. 
 
 " A very dusty Jove," returned St. Denys. " It 
 is the way of womankind, however, sir. Since 
 they cannot revenge their wrongs by conquering 
 
76 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 and routing us from the face of creation, they 
 wreak the exuberant spite on every unfortunate 
 speck and grain of the grand primal element, 
 dirt, in their domains ; and an atmospherical 
 stampede of dust, like the present, is their de- 
 light. A savage onslaught on the unpleasant 
 material supposed to have entered into the com- 
 position of man is instinct in the feminine na- 
 ture ! " 
 
 " And all the people shall say Amen," said 
 Miriam, soberly. 
 
 " I thought you had important affairs to de- 
 tain you, young woman." 
 
 " So I had, papa. How could one go out 
 when the noise and bustle inside had such at- 
 tractions ? And besides " 
 
 "Besides what?" 
 
 " I wanted to make friends with some women," 
 after a pause and coaxingly. 
 
 " And have you succeeded ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " By a primitive Freemasonry. And have you 
 had enough housework ? " 
 
 " Not quite, papa." 
 
 " Satisfy yourself, by all means. I shall lie 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 77 
 
 down, and as we ride this afternoon, perhaps 
 two more strokes of a besom and one fling of a 
 duster will be sufficient stimuli for a heartier ban- 
 quet of scrubbing-brushes and mops, by and by.'' 
 " Take care, papa," she cried, sweeping threat- 
 eningly down upon them. " The first stroke 
 besoms you and Sir Rohan where the other 
 nuisances go ! " Upon which the two gentlemen 
 beat a cowardly retreat, St. Denys to his apart- 
 ment and Sir Rohan to his painting. 
 
 Shortly before luncheon, Mr. Redruth passed 
 through the hall, with a large key in his hand. 
 
 " Where are you going, Mr. Redruth ? " sang 
 Miriam. 
 
 " To the wine-cellar, my lady." 
 
 " I am not my lady, remember. But may I 
 go with you ? " And without pausing for a reply, 
 she followed him. 
 
 "It is a place hardly fit for ladies " 
 
 " As fit for ladies as gentlemen," she retorted. 
 " Is it so very much worse than the rest of the 
 house ? " 
 
 " Ah, Miss, it is a sad, sad house," said the 
 old man, shaking his head. A sudden disposition 
 
 7* 
 
78 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 to inquire about Sir Rohan seized Miriam, but, 
 a nice honor restraining her, she followed Red- 
 ruth silently along various steps and passages, 
 till he unlocked a door at the head of one last 
 flight, lighted a candle, and went down. Here, 
 also, great cobwebs hung in flaunting sheets, the 
 dampness had generated a blue mould upon the 
 narrow walls of the stairway, and large fungi 
 grew rankly in the interstices of the flags. As 
 they proceeded, the roof vaulted above in mas- 
 sive arches hewn from the rock, with broad groins 
 and a single row of immense pillars ; they were 
 imder the main foundation of the house. Here 
 lay a pile of broken bottles ; there, a heap of 
 puff-balls that Redruth had torn yesterday from 
 the path ; further along, the walls gave back a 
 frosty glisten to the rush-light, covered as they 
 were with crystalline incrustations that seemed 
 to have exuded from the rock and settled from 
 the air ; and in the last recesses, behind doors 
 heavy with chains, were bins full of curiously- 
 shaped flasks bearing fantastic seals ; and great 
 casks, piled one upon another, whose heads, once 
 cabalistically labelled in redolent warehouses, were 
 now netted and wreathed in the dusty gossamer 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 79 
 
 of the spider. It was a new place to Miriam, 
 for in her well-ordered home she had never 
 sought, nor would have found, one similar. If 
 she had thought at all about it, she had fancied 
 the wine on St. Denys's table was supplied in 
 much the same manner as the three fish always 
 to be found in St. Neot's well, or as some mod- 
 ern magician draws finest liquors from walls and 
 tables where none ever existed before, and where 
 we may suppose no great provision remains. On 
 one side, in among the rarest Metloc, were hoards 
 of claret that had long lost its mingled flavor 
 and lay lifeless in dingy sarcophagi ; while its 
 fragrant kindred, exquisite Chateau Margaux, 
 delicatest St. Emilion, and sweet wine of Roses 
 from the Abbey of He, gathered a softer fire 
 and richer purple in slumbering through the 
 slow feuilles of their balmy dreams. Not far 
 away lay the treasures of the Cote d'Or, and 
 of Champagne. 
 
 " All these, Sir Rohan laid in nearly twenty 
 years ago," said Redruth, " but they are losing 
 now. Will you try them, Miss Miriam ? " 
 
 " I came down to see, not to taste," she an- 
 swered. 
 
80 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " Here is the most perfect wine in the world 1 " 
 he said, drawing a bottle from its layer of white 
 sand. " At least, they say it is. I '11 show you 
 one, soon, far finer, to my fancy. Yet none but 
 that can equal the softness and strength of this. 
 How racy it is, clearing the heart like a laugh, 
 and yet how light, never leaving a fume in the 
 brain ; vinous, too, as if the very life and soul 
 of the grape had been expressed into each vin- 
 tage, and the vine would never blossom again. 
 So full of perfume is it, that I wonder so small 
 a space should contain such exhaustless odors, 
 and half believe, at each bottle I uncork, that 
 the King, upon his throne hundreds of miles 
 away, will scent it slipping along the wind, and 
 demand it ! And what a crimson stain it has 
 in the glass ! a glass as thin as air you should 
 drink it from, Miss Miriam. If I were one of 
 the heathen gods, I would turn the great hollow 
 heavens into a drinking-cup, and wringing it full 
 of the juices of the Cote d'Or, would sip and 
 sleep through eternities." 
 
 " Perhaps that is what one of the Indian gods 
 does do, I think they call him Brahma," said 
 Miriam. " But I 've read that the ancients 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 81 
 
 drank from murrhine cups, which shed an almost 
 imperceptible fragrance through the draught." 
 
 " All ! and these same ancients, I Ve heard 
 say, worshipped something called Bacchus. The 
 poor things, I suppose, had never heard of Bur- 
 gundy." 
 
 " Is that the name of this wine, Mr. Eedruth ? " 
 asked Miriam, touching the little bundle of vir- 
 tues daintily with her finger. 
 
 " That is one name, just as all the imperial 
 family have a family name ; but the Emperor 
 himself has a name separate, and this is a very 
 pretty one, it is called Romance Conti." 
 
 " All your wines have pretty names, I think. 
 Do you know any that have n't ? " 
 
 " Let me see. There is Schloss Johannisber- 
 ger ; that 's not so pretty." 
 
 " I don't know. Schloss is as pleasant as 
 Castle, and the syllables jingle well. Yes, I 
 think that is." 
 
 " There 's Marcobrunner Montefiascone 
 Amontillado." 
 
 " No, indeed, Mr. Redruth, they are as musical 
 as brooks." 
 
 " 0, there 's Szeghi, a Tokay liqueur." 
 
82 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " And that has a savage sound which I like." 
 
 " Indeed then, Miss Miriam, they all must 
 have sweet sounds. I hardly think so fine a 
 thing could be ill-named," said the old connois- 
 seur, with a sigh of pleasure, as he replaced the 
 bottle. 
 
 On the other side were stored lively Rhenish, 
 that might have been reposing unmoved some 
 half-century; beyond them, dry Spanish and 
 white wines ; and in a still warmer nook, but 
 half disclosed in the dim light, luscious liqueurs 
 of the Levant, and rich muscadines of the south. 
 
 " Here," said Redruth, " is wine that I brought 
 from Xeres myself, when Sir Rohan bought the 
 French wines. You have been in Spain, Miss 
 Miriam ? No ? Then you never saw the Tent 
 grape, which is purple all through; nor the 
 great vats, with steps to climb them, where they 
 keep the Val de Penas; nor the giant tanks at 
 Alicant ; nor yet the vine-dressers of Catalonia, 
 swinging over precipices by slender cords, that 
 they may tend the priceless vintage of some 
 cranny no bigger than a grave. You would like 
 the country where these Lagrimas come from. 
 Tears, they are not pressed from the unwilling 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 83 
 
 bunches, but wept down by large white grapes 
 that can well afford to be so bountiful. I do 
 not know which were best, the laughing of 
 Champagne, or the weeping of Malaga." 
 
 They were now in the last arch, whose thick 
 draperies blinked through the unaccustomed rays, 
 and swung heavily at the breath of the speaker 
 while he busied himself in the ancient stores and 
 stooping among the tressels, with the candle, sent 
 fantastic shadows to dance up the dusky stone, 
 still startling Miriam as the clinging webs now 
 and then brushed her cheek. 
 
 " All the wine in this corner," said he, " could 
 not be bought with gold. It keeps. There are 
 a dozen kinds, placed here by another Sir Rohan, 
 a hundred years ago. This is Rousillon, or 
 Masdeu they call it up stairs, which means 
 God's Farm; and it is that, indeed. Knights 
 templar and monks have grown it. A color 
 like a violet it owned, when new. Canary is 
 this; it should have the smell of a pine-apple. 
 Do you fancy pines, Miss Miriam ? You shall 
 have them at dessert to-day, for liking so well 
 to hear about my wines." 
 
 " Yirtue is its own reward, Mr. Redruth. 
 
84 
 
 "Here is Madeira. If fire could be oily in 
 the mouth and a cordial to the stomach, and 
 yet have so delicious an odor that when swal- 
 lowing it you felt like one prolonged nose down 
 to your finger-tips, why, then fire were old Ma- 
 deira." 
 
 Just above Mr. Redruth's head stood jars of 
 sweet Cypress, and a carabas of Shiraz wine. 
 "It is as sparkling and transparent as rock- 
 water," said Mr. Eedruth, pointing at the last. 
 "I often wonder what kind of grape can have 
 so clear a juice." 
 
 " I can tell you, Mr. Eedruth, for I have seen 
 it." 
 
 " Miss Miriam ! " he exclaimed, with delight. 
 
 " yes. They grow among some old ruins, 
 and they are immense, gold-colored, and trans- 
 lucent, and are called royal grapes." 
 
 " Thank you, young lady. I did not think 
 to learn anything of you, when you tripped 
 down behind me, just now. I 'm not very fond 
 of young persons ; but see ! you said, a moment 
 since, virtue was its own reward, and here it 
 is. The wine I told you of is there ; and after 
 I have taken off the dinner wines, I shall come 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 85 
 
 back and toast your eyes, pretty one. That be- 
 side it is Johannisberger, whose name you like 
 so much ; and next is Riesling, that grew at 
 Strasburg, where there is a fine spire, I think, 
 the finest in the world, I think, that tapers 
 off and lingers in the air as you will find the 
 aroma of White Hermitage linger in your 
 throat ! " And taking a flask of Tokay from 
 beneath an anthiel of the same, he left it in her 
 hands as if in compensation for his absence 
 while going to decant the wines for which he 
 had come. " Some call this the king of wines," 
 he said ; " but it 's not my king, as I told you." 
 
 As he went down the arches, followed by 
 his shadows, now bringing the rondure of big 
 empty tuns into light, and now filling the hollow 
 vaults with deeper gloom, Miriam's glances pur- 
 sued him, and she puzzled herself fancying what 
 contentment he could find crawling in and out, 
 day after day, among barrels and bins, and 
 hoping to die no better. Then she remembered 
 the little flask of consolation that had been left 
 with her, and turned it idly in her hands, al- 
 though in the darkness hardly to be seen. 
 
 Not a year before, in that delicious season 
 
 8 
 
86 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 when October and November mingle their warm 
 and cool hues in softest shading, making for us 
 the Indian summer, she remembered to have 
 wandered, one morning, through a vineyard of 
 Tokay. The vines, somewhat shrivelled and 
 brown, yet still bending with the affluent weight 
 of their sumptuous and shining clusters, which 
 nestled among the sere leaves as if in broad, 
 golden salvers ; the dews, not yet all exhaled, 
 sliding from side to side, and as they hid in the 
 heart of the bloom-bathed bunches, imparting to 
 them one last flavor of morning, and sunshine, 
 and sweet south winds ; the lusty gatherers, with 
 brimming corbeilles borne on their heads lightly 
 as crowns and just supported by the caryatid 
 curve of a sun-bronzed arm ; the rosy faces of 
 frolicsome girls, as they peered through alleys of 
 the vintage treasures ; the great, grooved tables, 
 heaped like altars of Bacchus with purple abun- 
 dance, even the pearly piles glowing in rich shad- 
 ows ; and the merry Hungarian peasants, whose 
 white and naked feet vainly strove to conquer 
 the exuberant and spirting crimson. She re- 
 membered the little brown thief, with his wide, 
 sherry-colored eyes, his mouth and hands full 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 87 
 
 of the gray stolen fruit; the scarlet-winged bird 
 who swung in the sun beside her ; the promise 
 of distant snow, low in the air, that would soon 
 lay its white morsels among the dark bunches 
 left to gather the juice of the completed sea- 
 sons ; the stream braiding its remote banks with 
 the light and gloom of creek and inlet ; and the 
 sailing shadow of a cloud sweeping over bend- 
 ing fields of yellow grain, and falling fainter 
 and fainter, till between far blue hills that 
 reared opposing relics of barbarous fastnesses it 
 became only like the visible breath of the wind 
 itself. All this was the tribute of the last vin- 
 tage, but how many seasons had faded since 
 that morning whose sunshine a hundred years 
 ago had been clouded into the wine of the flask 
 she held, drawing with them all the gay work- 
 ers of that day ! Grief and gray-haired winter 
 and frosty death had succeeded their smiling 
 summer, and they mouldered in mountain-graves, 
 with the vintagers of the Caesars, yet their 
 wine lived. An Emperor had supped from the 
 kindred of this flask, lifting its silvery lustre to 
 sway with an oily, indolent lusciousness between 
 his eye and the sparkling lights, amidst ravish- 
 
88 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 ing music and beauty that made the night per- 
 fect, and this had slept in what silent seclu- 
 sion in the darkest recesses of a dismal cellar. 
 What seas had rocked this wine till it clarified 
 itself by tumult, what tropical fervors had filled 
 it with spicy sweets, what large-starred Indian 
 nights had wafted its ship through zones of 
 frankincense and myrrh, with all the airs of 
 Paradise, and in what tempestuous expanses had 
 it ploughed when the waves rose like columns 
 of green fire, knitting their white fans above 
 the highest mast. Other flasks of the same 
 growth might be lying on ocean-floors beside the 
 drinking-cup of the gods ; but this had ended 
 all wandering, beneath the foundations of a for- 
 saken manor. Still it amassed further richness, 
 as the hair of the Enchanted Beauty grew to 
 her feet. It had royal company, too, in its 
 sleeping palace ; and she recalled the names with 
 which Redruth had entertained her. There was 
 Homer's Nectar, still borne by rocky Scio as 
 when the blind poet climbed its hills, feasting 
 his grand eyes with the imagination of the sea. 
 There was Vino d'Oro, made where the rustle 
 of the cedars of Lebanon reached it, and through 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 89 
 
 whose gardens perhaps Solomon himself had 
 walked* at cool of day. There was the wine of 
 Hannibal's camp ; and the wine of the Holy 
 Spirit, such as mellowed in the great tun of 
 Heidelberg, watched by grotesque sprites and de- 
 mons perched atop, growing almost in the shadow 
 of a Spire more perfect than the one which Red- 
 ruth fancied, inasmuch as free offerings have a 
 sweeter savor than extortions, and this rose and 
 melted into heaven wreathed with a softer beauty 
 than niche or pinnacle or buttress could bestow, 
 bathed in the aesthetic adoration of that noble 
 people who, without the aid of majesty or sanc- 
 tity, could give farm and homestead and time 
 to build up and complete this monument in air; 
 and there was the Sang des Suisses, the Wine 
 of Blood, a wine whose soil the life of heroes 
 had moistened, and low on whose horizon lay the 
 purple and silver phantoms of the Alps. She 
 looked toward the obscure quarter of the cream- 
 ing Ay, and thought of some possible rencontre 
 of the famous sovereigns of the four great king- 
 doms of the world, who had each their vineyard 
 on the hill-side there. There was the Lacryma 
 Christi which alchemized the crust of a volcano 
 
 8* 
 
90 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 into juices that, she had heard St. Denys say, 
 the Roman Horace sipped as rare Falernian ; and 
 certainly Charlemagne had known the name and 
 flavor of some among those Rhenish wines. Did 
 not those Rhenish wines where now the candle 
 flickered, make all beautiful landscapes possible in 
 this dark and chilly cellar ? Did they not bring 
 the broad river and roll it through the gloom, 
 between castle-crowned shores over whose sides 
 clambered and tossed in sunny breezes multitudes 
 of cool, whispering leaves, where feudal ruins, 
 whose beacon-fires had once bounded from roof 
 to roof, bright signals of incursion or attack, now 
 crumbled amidst the eternal youth of luxuriant 
 vegetation, hung their embrasures with imperial 
 draperies, and housed in the cells of wall and 
 corridor the purple swarms of harvest? Was 
 not the chorus of the savage barons still to be 
 heard, and the clang of their drinking-glasses ? 
 Were not the fair faces of sad-eyed nuns to be 
 seen down the green vistas of tendril and vine? 
 And under the palest moon did not the water- 
 sprites weave misty fountains and long falls of 
 spray in its arrowy middle current? Were they 
 not the chrism of poetry and history and ro- 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 91 
 
 mance, and did not their names sing, as it were, 
 to themselves? Fine company, too, were those 
 island wines, that had exchanged their throne- 
 like hill-sides rising on the far view of the mari- 
 ner like clouds, and ever serenely taking the dash 
 and turbulence of mid-ocean, for the wooden tres- 
 sels beneath them now ; their hedges of wild-rose 
 and myrtle and pomegranate for the dust and 
 films of this cellar ; and for the darkness of this 
 present shelter, the steep look-out from their 
 island citadels, across boundless reaches of sum- 
 mer seas. If I drink of this Tokay, thought 
 Miriam, I drink sunshine, and the grape, and 
 Hungary and a certain wild freedom of its un- 
 tamable atmosphere. What long voyages a-sea, 
 and what silence and rest and perfect calm. But 
 shall T taste them in it if all these made a 
 wine, would its flavor be that of Tokay ? I would 
 drink it then, indeed, but I may not like this 
 and while she mused, the flask, so lightly held, 
 slipped from her hands and shivered on the flag. 
 The costly liqueur ran slowly down the channels 
 of the pavement, while Miriam stood aghast at 
 the unpremeditated libation. Suddenly a strange 
 perfume rose in clouds, wrapping her, and still 
 
92 
 
 curling upward and around. Softest summer 
 and richest fragrance diffused through the damp 
 and wintry vaults, and all the wealth of Araby 
 the Blest seemed dripping from the air and lying 
 at her feet. As she moved, her garments shook 
 out sweetest gales, and the arches swelled to the 
 pillared vastness of some incense-shrouded tem- 
 ple. "While lamenting the catastrophe, she heard 
 the voice of Kedruth approaching. 
 
 " So it tempted you too much. You could n't 
 wait for me ! " he said. 
 
 Miriam was silent till he comprehended her 
 misdeed. " I am so sorry ! " she said then. 
 
 " 0, it was priceless ! " he exclaimed with a 
 pang, stooping over the fragments. 
 
 " You should n't have bewitched me, then ! " 
 retorted Miriam, twice nettled. 
 
 " Well, well, Miss, you 're sorry, or you 
 would n't be so sharp." 
 
 " I shall break everything in the house, if I 
 don't go away soon." 
 
 "Better you should, than go away." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Redruth ! I thought you would 
 be provoked." 
 
 "It was yours, and if you like it better on 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 93 
 
 the floor, you 're welcome. It 's a shame to 
 see good wine wasted, though, and this was the 
 cream of the earth. Other wines are best grown 
 011 light sands from which they can draw no juice, 
 or nourishment ; the sun and the air, the wind 
 and the rain, feed them with pulp and sweet- 
 ness : but the old Earth herself, Miss Miriam, 
 gives its charm to Tokay, draws its roots into 
 her bosom, distils all her aromatic gums in pun- 
 gent essences along its ducts, teaches it her se- 
 cret. Yet I was not going to pledge you in it, 
 but in a wine paler than amber, rarer than 
 Tokay";' in White Hermitage." 
 
 " Why in that, Mr. Redruth ? " 
 
 " Because it has a sweet association in my 
 mind with youth and beauty, and a love whose 
 mystery I never learned. Shall I tell you ? " 
 He paused a moment, as if reflecting. Miriam's 
 nice honor deserted. "It is not a score of years 
 since Sir Rohan brought home with him, one 
 day, a young lady handsome and stately-step- 
 ping as yourself," he continued. " Hardly my 
 master's equal I might think, though seeing 
 her so little, and she so quiet before folk, it was 
 not easy to judge. The noon they came it 
 
94 
 
 was just about tins season of the year Sir Ro- 
 han passed down here with me ; the great door 
 yonder was open, and had filled the cellar with 
 warm twilight. I was showing him the wines 
 he had sent me to buy in Spain, when we heard 
 a little rustle, and she had followed close behind 
 him. I showed no more bargains that day, but 
 at the mouth of this arch they pledged each 
 other in White Hermitage. It was a pretty pic- 
 ture, my young master, so tall and gallant, with 
 all his glances on her, and she, tender and laugh- 
 ing and blushing ah ! I shall not see one like 
 it again. They were here but a few days, and 
 on one or two of those were gone from dawn to 
 setting at some old ruins near, and then they 
 went away to the North. She wore a curious 
 ring that had been an heirloom in the family, 
 and that he himself used to wear before her." 
 " Was this young lady Sir Rohan's wife ? " 
 "I never heard that she was." 
 " Poor child ! what became of her ? " 
 " I never saw her again, and who would dare 
 ask Sir Rohan a question ? " 
 " I have asked him many." 
 " Yet I would not advise you to ask him this. 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 95 
 
 Since the day he came back alone, he has been 
 what he is now." 
 
 Saying which things, Mr. Redruth brought up 
 from a hidden recess a tiny bottle of White 
 Hermitage. " There were three bottles then," 
 he added ; " after this there will be only one." 
 
 "But may we take it?" 
 
 " Of course we may ! I never pass it but I 
 think of the gray-bearded Hermit on his stony 
 hill, setting the plants in every seam of the 
 rocks. If he had ever been a bad man, he 
 would have loathed the work that recalled hours 
 of sin ; and he must have been a good man, for 
 he planted for posterity." 
 
 " Does that follow ? " 
 
 " 0, you don't agree with me, you 're for a 
 quibble, you never drank Hermitage ! But let 
 us go out where the odor of the spilled wine 
 will not mingle with it." 
 
 At the mouth of the arch he drew two glasses 
 from the basket on his arm. 
 
 " Why do you bring them down here ? " she 
 asked saucily. 
 
 "Because when I am in the small wines, I 
 sometimes get confused as to the kind I want, 
 and am obliged to taste." 
 
96 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " I am afraid you have been down too long 
 when you get confused." 
 
 " It may be, Miss Miriam, it may be." 
 
 "0, I beg pardon, Mr. Redruth ! I was n't 
 in earnest." 
 
 " No offence, young lady. But though I 'm so 
 fond of our wines, I seldom drink them, not 
 too often ; and no more does my master, or they 
 would have been gone long since ; and I do not 
 think you were born when the last were laid 
 in." 
 
 But it occurs to me here that, in the course of 
 my observation, I have never met an individual 
 who acknowledged that he had just been asleep, 
 that he entertained the least curiosity concerning 
 his acquaintance, that he was unfamiliar with the 
 ways of the world, or whose irascibility was not to 
 be highly excited by an allusion to the time when 
 he should have gained more experience. How, 
 then, could I find one who confesses that he takes 
 wine too often? 
 
 Hanging his candle in a hook, Redruth drew 
 the cork, and filled first Miriam's glass and then 
 his own. 
 
 " Hold it up to the light, Miss, and see the 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 97 
 
 shiver that sparkles through it at the breath of 
 the cold air. See how clear it is, the chrysolite 
 of the Bible is not clearer ; brighter than the 
 gilding of the great mirrors up stairs, and fairer 
 than the shine of straw. See the delicate topaz 
 tint. It is the color of the sky just before an early 
 winter's sunset, palest, most pellucid gold. How 
 thin and fine, it looks as if the glass held only a 
 splendid vapor that any wind might blow about 
 in little flakes. Draw it nearer and take the per- 
 fume ; what a rich and bounteous bouquet ! You 
 have the concentration of a whole garden of flow- 
 ers, each one sweeter than the other. Taste it, 
 and we need a word to say what the aroma is like. 
 Here 's to your brown eyes, Miss Miriam ! " 
 
 " And may you be cup-taster to Prester John, 
 Mr. Redruth!" 
 
 It so happened that after he had been some 
 time busy at his easel, it occurred to Sir Rohan 
 to go on the same errand as Redruth, and see 
 what store for choice palates yet remained in the 
 cellar. In his preoccupied state of mind the open 
 door was unnoticed, and he descended till he came 
 to the heap of puff-balls which lay drying by the 
 
98 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 path. He had long contracted a habit of looking 
 steadfastly ahead, and thus the scene, illuminated 
 by the swinging taper, which had first been en- 
 acted in his own life, met his unobstructed view at 
 the other end of the cellar. Amazed, he dropped 
 his candle in the fungi, and paused to behold it. 
 Miriam, white-gowned and with loosened hair, 
 holding her sparkling glass to the light, like any 
 Bacchante, while Redruth dim in shadow, as the 
 dark figure of a cameo, projected her more bril- 
 liantly. As he gazed, the fallen candle kindled the 
 withered growth beneath, which, flashing up, sur- 
 rounded him for an instant with a pillar of fire, 
 smothered again, and rolled on high a dense vol- 
 ume of smoke. 
 
 The intoxicating effects of the fumes of burn- 
 ing puff-balls are too well known to need com- 
 ment ; and as Sir Rohan stood in a species of 
 bewilderment, he inhaled their delirious vapor, 
 still with his eyes on Miriam. Suddenly, while 
 she yet extended her arm, he saw a little house- 
 adder glide from a crevice of the stone, look about 
 alertly, slip down and coil like a bracelet round 
 her ivory wrist. He would have darted forward, 
 but all power of volition was torpid, though he 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 99 
 
 beheld faintly through the smoke the white face 
 of Redruth paralyzed with fear, and he waited 
 in an agony of agitation and alarm. Miriam, 
 for the first moment ghastly enough, in the next, 
 bent curiously forward, and inspected the ven- 
 omous little creature, that lifted its head till the 
 fangs danced before her eyes. Sir Rohan seemed 
 to see nothing that ensued ; he only perceived 
 her in the instant of horror, for it was the very 
 device of the ring of his dream. In a breath he 
 comprehended that the Ghost had come to him 
 again ; and as the little flames spread from the 
 fungi beneath him to those a step in advance, he 
 saw her, with her hard eyes piercing his, shaking 
 a web of fire betwixt him and Miriam. So, the 
 device of the ring his mother had worn, he had 
 worn, the Ghost had worn, Miriam was imperson- 
 ating. He felt the seconds of his delirament 
 stretching into hours, while the scene was as im- 
 movably fixed before him as if carved on the rock. 
 Could the Ghost by any subtle chymistry thus 
 have transformed and brought the ring back to 
 him in the gigantesque, planted at the foundations 
 of his house, as it was of his life, to send thrills 
 through every wall, and to be remembered at 
 
100 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 every draught ? It was in vain to call reason to 
 his aid, or to remember that the power of the 
 Ghost had been growing less and less for years ; 
 the intoxication he had breathed ruled him as im- 
 periously as ever she had done, and he could not 
 but abandon himself to the wildest extravagances 
 of imagination, while counting the separate snails 
 that arched their yellow backs, and tracked the 
 stones around this device, which was multiplied, 
 by the patches of light cast from the swinging 
 taper, into a thousand Miriams, each one fasci- 
 nated by a glittering serpent, counting the 
 bright-eyed toads who squatted above and gazed, 
 the white lizard and the gold beetle who emerged, 
 and stared, and hid themselves again. The cur- 
 rent of fresh air blowing down from the open door 
 half roused him ; broken reflections of the scene 
 floated away on the dissipating smoke ; he won- 
 dered if men often lived so long as he was suffer- 
 ing ; the atmosphere became clear again, and 
 he saw Miriam take the snake by the tail, give 
 it a sudden twist and toss upon the distant flags, 
 where with a sharp hiss it slid from sight, while 
 she looked into Redrutli's face and laughed. He 
 found his relief before he saw her action. 
 
THE WINE-CELLAR. 101 
 
 " How quickly you did it, Miss Miriam ! " he 
 heard Redruth say. " Why, I scarce saw the 
 thing before it was gone ! " 
 
 The effect of the puff-balls was passing off, and, 
 tearing his limbs from their chain, he sped up the 
 stairs again. In a few moments, with her slow, 
 stately step, somewhat recalled from familiarity by 
 the accident, Miriam followed, leaving Redruth, 
 in astonishment that he could have dropped a 
 spark, to set open the great door and cleanse the 
 cellar, lest the smoke and spilled wine should cor- 
 rupt and ferment his treasures. And had one 
 looked in, a half-hour later, they had seen him 
 staying himself, in Sybaritic composure, with 
 flagons, and because there were no apples, com- 
 forting himself again with flagons. 
 
V. 
 
 THE RINGS. 
 
 THE next day, Miriam told St. Denys of her 
 experience in the cellar, and asked him if 
 what Redruth had told her concerning Sir Rohan 
 were true. 
 
 " You should not attend the gossip of servants," 
 was his response. 
 
 " But Mr. Redruth assumed such a quiet patron- 
 age, that he seemed to have lost that capacity." 
 
 " He is old, and generally faithful ; but per- 
 haps his heart was warmed with the wines over 
 which he was, as you say, so enthusiastic, when 
 he spoke too freely of his master. Forget it, 
 my dear." 
 
 " I suppose every one has his faculties concen- 
 trated on some particular point," said Miriam, 
 after a little while ; " and so with this man, every 
 other beautiful thing only tends to illustrate and 
 
THE RINGS. 103 
 
 adorn his wines. He was something like a poet, 
 only, papa, I don't think I like poets. And Sir 
 Rohan his point is his painting." 
 
 " Just now it is, but he 's as good at anything, 
 as the melancholy Jaques has it." 
 
 " I wonder, after all, if he knows so much about 
 any of his businesses as Rcdruth does about his 
 one. Well, I 'm glad, papa, you 're not a poet, 
 nor artist, nor any of those disagreeable things. 
 You neither run nor halt, but do you know, I 
 think you have an even gait, something too princely 
 to stoop for trifles. There's a compliment from 
 your big baby ! " and she twined her arms coax- 
 ingly round his neck. 
 
 " Compliment, indeed ! Who gave you leave to 
 flatter me ? " he said, fondly putting back her dis- 
 ordered hair. 
 
 "Why, you see if you 've so fine a gait, the best 
 thing you can do with it is to walk home ! I want 
 to be at home. Only think, it is ever and ever so 
 long since we saw the Castle ! " 
 
 "Ah, Miss Miriam ! " said Sir Rohan, entering 
 just then, " are you so impatient to get away ? " 
 
 "Not impatient, sir," she answered, rearrang- 
 ing herself. " Only when one has been three 
 
104 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 years away, home has gained a kind of enchant- 
 ment." 
 
 " I revolved various schemes for your entertain- 
 ment, during my illness yesterday evening," said 
 Sir Rohan ; " but so lonely is the vicinity that 
 society is impossible. My only neighbor is Marc 
 Arundel at least he was " 
 
 " Marc Arundel ! God bless me ! have I escaped 
 that man abroad, to hear of him first at home ? " 
 exclaimed St. Denys. 
 
 " All ? He is your heir ? I had quite forgotten. 
 Yes, his estate is about twenty miles away, a 
 small one. I have no doubt that there are other 
 families between us, but unfortunately I do not 
 know them." 
 
 " Pshaw ! what matter ? We did not come to see 
 them, Rohan." 
 
 "Thank you. But, lest too much even of so 
 good a thing as your humble servant should tire, 
 the monotony must be varied. There are a thou- 
 sand curiosities in the county which might inter- 
 est Miss Miriam : cromlechs, old British fortresses, 
 fabled abodes of Gog-Magog, and even some avail- 
 able mines " 
 
 " 0, a mine ! a mine ! I should delight, of all 
 
THE RINGS. 105 
 
 things, in going down a mine ! " exclaimed Mir- 
 iam. 
 
 " Perhaps you would not find it so delightful in 
 practice as in fancy," said St. Denys. 
 
 " 0, Sir Rohan ! " cried Miriam, " is there one 
 near here ? " 
 
 " There was," he replied ; " but it may be for- 
 saken now ; I will ask Redruth." 
 
 In a few moments, during which Miriam beat 
 impatient tattoos with her foot, Mr. Redruth 
 answered his summons. 
 
 " Yes, sir," he replied ; " they work a lode of 
 the great mine still, and that is on your own land. 
 The other veins took a start some years ago, and 
 are quite dead now." 
 
 " Can we enter it, Mr. Redruth ? " cried Mir- 
 iam. 
 
 " Why, Miss, I do not know as to yourself; but 
 the gentlemen can, if " 
 
 " 0, then, we will certainly go. I will get 
 ready at once. Is it far ? " 
 
 " Seven or eight miles, Miss." 
 
 " Then we had best have the coach, Miriam ; 
 your riding-dress might embarrass you." 
 
 "You will have to dress differently, for con- 
 
106 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 venience in climbing," said Sir Rohan. " Per- 
 haps Mrs. Redruth can accommodate you." 
 
 "Yes, papa. Thank you, Sir Rohan, I will 
 ask her. I will be back in a minute," and she 
 ran quickly from the room. 
 
 " Order the coach, Redruth," said Sir Rohan, 
 " and accompany us, if you like." 
 
 " I will drive you with pleasure, sir," he 
 replied, disappearing. 
 
 " How comes it, Rohan," asked St. Denys, 
 while they waited alone, " that you dropped your 
 acquaintances so entirely ? " 
 
 " You refer to Arundel ? 0, I never knew 
 him at all. Some time ago Redruth told me he 
 had come into his property, by which I judged 
 his father, whom I once knew, to be dead ; but 
 for himself, he is little more than a boy." 
 
 "A very troublesome boy, a scoundrel of 
 some thirty years' growth, thoroughly possessed 
 of evil. He has given me infinite trouble for 
 Miriam. She is only eighteen now, but three 
 years ago I had to take her abroad to avoid 
 his pertinacity. It is best that it was so, for I 
 had always found it impossible to have Miriam 
 taught. She has learned little or nothing from 
 
THE RINGS. 107 
 
 books, nothing of use, yet adapted herself sur- 
 prisingly to the languages of such countries as 
 we lived in, and by a continual companionship 
 with me has gained, orally, what all the types 
 of Europe would have failed to impart." 
 " Did you free yourselves from Arundel ? " 
 " Marc ? no ; he followed us for a time so 
 closely as to seem ubiquitous. But at last we 
 escaped him. You know the greater part of my 
 possessions are entailed on him." 
 
 "And yet I believe he is not of your blood." 
 " I wish I could say no drop, and thank God ! 
 But he is my only relative in the male line, 
 though distant." 
 
 " Ah, I thought it had been some indirect 
 way, or unforeseen chance, that made him inherit 
 from an uncle who was father and heir to your 
 dead sister's child." 
 
 " To be sure. He has some small sum in the 
 funds through that luck, and he knew that 
 Miriam will have more there, all the personal 
 property. I would give half my remaining years 
 to break that entail. Unless I should lose it, 
 though, which is unlikely, Miriam will have a 
 fortune fair enough ; I hasten to reach home and 
 
108 SIR KOHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 lawyers, that iny will and these settlements may 
 be made." 
 
 "Why hasten? You are young yet." 
 
 " I am young, truly, but have 110 elixir for 
 remaining so." 
 
 Redruth and Miriam returned now together; 
 Miriam, with her travelling-cloak wrapped closely 
 round her, revealing, notwithstanding, the well- 
 booted foot and handsomely turned ankle, and 
 with a singular cap tied over her ears, looking in 
 the odd disguise, amid her pretty blushes and 
 laughter, like the ladies on the stage who become 
 pages as circumstance and the author command, 
 or like some bashful impersonation of Rosalind. 
 Lifting her hand to knock the cap jauntily on one 
 side, she displayed, with a quaint coquetry, the 
 neat miner's suit which she adorned. 
 
 " Mrs. Redruth has lent me some flannel clothes 
 of her son's, who sometimes works in the mine," 
 she said. " Do you mind, papa ? You two will 
 look infinitely worse when lost in the corners of 
 some burly stone-ciitter's raiment ! " And they 
 were soon bowling forward to the mine. 
 
 After an hour's drive, the road, which had been 
 sheltered and pleasant, opened on a bleak level 
 
THE RINGS. 109 
 
 bordering the sea and exhibiting few signs of cul- 
 tivation. Here the coach stopped, and having 
 alighted, they followed Redruth through one of 
 the various footpaths that tracked the moor. At 
 no great distance the smoke of the blowing-house 
 rolled up continual volumes, staining the faultless 
 blue of the sky, and poisoning all the sunny air 
 beyond ; old shafts, that had been sunk and aban- 
 doned years since, lay on either side, deserted 
 pits, round whose black abysses long grasses bent 
 with their own coarse weight ; tall rushes, planted 
 to impede the progress of the sand inland from 
 along the coast, edged the horizon and tipped 
 themselves with the sparkle of the sea ; and at the 
 root of a single tall and ragged pine-tree, the great 
 shaft yawned amidst heaps of rubble, long lines of 
 conduits and gigantic whirling wheels, enormous 
 frames of scaffolding and cables through which 
 the wind whistled hoarse tunes, and all its black, 
 terrible enginery and uncouth paraphernalia. 
 Miriam left her cloak in the coach, when St. 
 Denys returned for her, already arrayed for the 
 descent. 
 
 " Is 't a lass going down ? " asked one of the 
 winze-men. 
 
 10 
 
110 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " As good wenches," replied his sullen com- 
 panion, "have stayed down." 
 
 St. Denys was the first to enter the shaft, and 
 having been safely lowered through the close, wet 
 sides of the hewn rock to the first platform, the 
 kibbul reascended for Miriam, Sir Rohan and 
 Redruth speedily following. Then came the cau- 
 tious clambering down steep, ruinous ladders, 
 flight after flight, with dim perspectives into 
 black galleries winding away like inquisitorial 
 vaults, far above, the fair sky now dark and 
 blue as twilight, far below, the twinkle of lan- 
 terns on yet lower platforms. The broken slats 
 that might precipitate their lifeless bodies a thou- 
 sand feet, the great, half-rotten beams that par- 
 tially upheld the roofs, the monstrous gaps of the 
 landing-places, just made visible by the candles 
 they carried, filled Miriam with no manner of 
 dread ; she experienced, instead, a wild exhilara- 
 tion. To Sir Rohan it was neither pleasure nor 
 pain. All things aroused in him only the senti- 
 ment of endurance, and he went along with the 
 same silent stoicism that he would have mani- 
 fested if eternity had been a treadmill. 
 
 " How easy it is ! " said Miriam. 
 
THE RINGS. Ill 
 
 " In the winter," replied the man who led them, 
 " the ladders are so covered with ice, rain and 
 sleet beating in with sharp flaws of the storm, that 
 the way is full enough of dangers. Poor Dick fell 
 down from here, a dozen years ago, when his hands 
 were numbed and his feet slipped from the run- 
 die." 
 
 " Dick who ? " asked Miriam. 
 
 " Roy, ma'am. He 'd been night-watch for a 
 long time below, and one day he took a notion to 
 see the world above, and there was an end ; he 's 
 never been up since." 
 
 " It killed him, of course ? " said St. Denys. 
 
 "No, sir, not that ; but it broke more bones 
 than I 'd V thought he had. We patched him up 
 and kept him like a lady till he was healed ; and 
 he seldom comes near the shaft now, nor will he 
 come up to the daylight. He says, being put down 
 so strong, it 's but fair lie should stay. "Will you 
 go down further, Masters ? There 's little below 
 but water and deads. Tender's the lode we 
 work." 
 
 Pausing on the platform, they glanced into the 
 profound again. One or two torches, small and 
 bright as fireflies, flickered about the face of the 
 
112 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 blackness. There was a murmur, broken now and 
 then by a dash and gurgle, that told of running 
 waters ; and the clang of the workmen's hammers 
 came to them with only a deadened reverbera- 
 tion. 
 
 "It is as great a mystery down there as it was 
 when we started," said Miriam. "Can't we go 
 where they are at work, papa ? " 
 
 The man who accompanied them was one of 
 authority, being an underground captain ; and 
 making her will his law, he stepped from the land- 
 ing, and conducted them along a tortuous way, 
 now on single planks that bridged pits suddenly 
 sunk to murk, dizzy, and never-sounded depths ; 
 and now crawling through passages precipitous on 
 one hand, and the three remaining sides all within 
 reach of the other, while to the flare of their can- 
 dles displaying in a glittering profusion bright 
 sheets of vivid green and rusty red, and singularly 
 white, pellucid oozes, till the narrow sides spread 
 into the wide halls of the explored vein. The roof 
 that they could have touched before, supported, as 
 it was, by great pillars of ore left unwrought, 
 stretched suddenly upward, without brace or but- 
 tress of any kind, higher than they could see, and 
 
THE RINGS. 113 
 
 shrouded in completest gloom. A natural cavern, 
 a vast hall flanked by vaster galleries with a thou- 
 sand avenues, all like as many mouths gaping for 
 darkness, was rendered only obscurer and more 
 awful by dim, scattered lights fixed in the wall, 
 the walls themselves giving back countless reflec- 
 tions, and glistening in rolls of gorgeous colors, as 
 the mundic sprinkled its lustrous facets over the 
 unhewn metal. Great barrows, piled with rocks 
 whose rough resplendent angles told of the treas- 
 ure in their bosoms, passed them ; and heaps of the 
 earthy matrix lay waiting to be conveyed in their 
 turn, with giant crystals of quartz and shining 
 slabs already split away from them, through whose 
 transparency the metal branched off and wandered 
 along with all the delicate arborescent intricacy of 
 a fern or a sea-moss. The clash and clatter as of 
 Thor with a thousand hammers, resounded and 
 beat about their ears in a deafening clangor, 
 and all the air was hot and oppressive. At one 
 moment the black distance of some far-extending 
 galleries would be powdered with showers of tiny 
 sparks, followed by quick explosions that echoed 
 like the multitudinous rattle of musketry, as small 
 fragments fell, loosened by force of some detonat- 
 
 10* H 
 
114 
 
 ing blast ; and already so suggestive of terror had 
 the gloom become, with its wild hints of greater 
 depths and darker precipices where the miners 
 were already kindling the Saturday iircs, that 
 Miriam clung to Sir Rohan's arm in a strange kind 
 of fascinated dread, while the Captain explained to 
 St. Denys all the difficulties and attractions of the 
 works. " It was pleasant," said St. Denys, after- 
 ward, " to observe the affection which this man 
 entertained for the mine, always using the femi- 
 nine appellative, and glorying in her wealth as if 
 it were a personal attribute." 
 
 Advancing down the cavernous mazes, they 
 stood upon a brink, deep in the heart of whose 
 chasms firemen were piling fagots and logs under 
 a hundred arches and beside every hanging wall, 
 feeding the hungry flames that licked the vaults 
 with long tongues, and as they passed to and fro 
 across the ruddy glare, waving their torches at 
 unlighted piles, seeming more like the gnomes 
 who turn the crystal sluices of hidden streams 
 and cook the gems and metals of the earth's 
 bowels, than like men who ever breathed in the 
 atmosphere above. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Miriam, " those things, those 
 
THE RINGS. 115 
 
 imps down there, hold the strings of the earth's 
 motion and keep her even in her orbit. If I 
 should hit one of them with a stone, I wonder 
 would she fly off like a comet or not. We are 
 in a sort of fairy-land." 
 
 " Stranger things have happened," said Sir 
 Rohan. " Throw your stone and see." And 
 they both delayed, looking at the masses of metal 
 which ran molten in the blaze, prismatic copper, 
 and here and there delicate drops of silver. 
 
 " How that heavier metal plashes down ! Com- 
 pared to it those silver sprays and plumes," said 
 Miriam, " seem rather to rise than fall, like feathers 
 in the air." 
 
 A frequent movement of Sir Rohan's, a sharp, 
 alert survey, had annoyed Miriam ever since their 
 entrance. 
 
 " Sir Rohan, how nervous you make me ! you 
 positively frighten me ! " she exclaimed. " What 
 is it you see with your rapid glance at either 
 hand? Is there any danger ? " 
 
 It half seemed to him when she spoke, as if 
 his secret were discovered, and he realized what 
 he had always doubted, the relief that could be 
 afforded by a disburdened conscience. 
 
116 
 
 " No danger, Miss Miriam," he replied ; " there 
 are no fire-damps here, I believe, though we 
 should not linger too long in so vile an atmos- 
 phere. The firemen will have spread their labors 
 through the mine soon, and then all leave it till 
 Monday morning, unless poor Dick stays down." 
 
 " There it is again ! " cried Miriam. " What 
 did you see ? " 
 
 " I saw, Miriam, a figure such as the witch 
 saw when Samuel came to Saul," he replied, after 
 an instant's pause. 
 
 " Gods ascending out of the earth ? " quoted 
 Miriam. 
 
 " I did not mean that exactly. A figure such 
 as when Anne came to Richard, very pale and 
 faint and wild, that glides between those distant 
 columns, out of one concave into another, and 
 always over the shoulder throws a dreadful glance 
 at me." 
 
 " In other words, a ghost ? " 
 
 " In other words, a Ghost." 
 
 But when Sir Rohan had said so much, a great 
 fear seized him lest he had revealed himself. He 
 knew, when he spoke, that she would not believe 
 him, and he felt himself to have trifled with some- 
 
THE RINGS. 117 
 
 thing too sacred for approach. Could he smile at 
 the Fates ? And would not the curse fall with 
 greater burden that he had raised it a moment 
 by a jest ? Yet here it was fitting for the Ghost 
 to reassume her function, if every place which she 
 had once filled with the dazzle of her youthful 
 beauty might be haunted by its phantom now, 
 for here she had once been, on as fair a day as 
 this, not twenty years ago. But as if some spell 
 bound a portion of her influence, she, who not 
 long since would have confronted him in her 
 direst mood, could now exert no more authority, 
 nor spread a wider van of horror than the wan 
 glimmer fading away from arch to arch in a per- 
 petual pursuit, and he could laugh at his Ghost. 
 
 Turning hastily, as he spoke, they wound 
 through other alleys after St. Denys and the 
 guide, till they again reached the great hall, where, 
 having seen quite enough of the mine, Miriam, 
 in answer to St. Denys, expressed a wish to re- 
 ascend, and they slowly crossed, listening to the 
 remarks of the garrulous Captain. Several of the 
 miners were haling an immense boulder down one 
 gallery ; above them, known by its faint breaths 
 of air, flared a forsaken shaft, looking up to which, 
 
118 
 
 Miriam, half expecting to find the blue, found 
 only a sphere of crystal darkness ; and down an 
 opposite aisle a torch advanced, rapidly swinging 
 from side to side, while its bearer sung a rough- 
 voiced recitative of some only half-remembered 
 ballad. Either they hajl become accustomed to 
 the din, or a large portion of it had ceased ; for 
 they heard his words distinctly enough, and his 
 rude salutation to the Captain. He was a tall 
 man, properly, but so gaunt and haggard as to 
 add an unnatural length to his stature ; clothed in 
 leathern nether garments, a red shirt falling open 
 from his tawny bosom, and a small skull-cap above 
 the matted rusty locks that mingled with his long 
 and scanty beard unkempt and unshorn. So sal- 
 low and hollow were the cheeks with their parched 
 skin clinging to the bone, so toothless the jaws, so 
 sunken and deep and glittering were the eyes, so 
 racked and ruined the whole distorted frame, that 
 it was evident he had long breathed the fumes of 
 arsenic which the burning mundic evolved, and 
 had been drained of health by the profuse sweat 
 of the furnaces above. 
 
 " Heavens ! " whispered Miriam, " it is an 
 automaton that will drop in pieces before it has 
 passed." 
 
THE RINGS. 119 
 
 " It is Dick Roy," said the Captain. " He is 
 tough, ma'am, or he 'd died long ago." 
 
 " I thought your arsenic burners lived but a 
 short time," said St. Denys. 
 
 " Well we don't look for them to trouble us 
 long ; they are in the houses above. But Dick 
 is only exposed to the poison once a week, when 
 we kindle the fires over Sunday, and then he 's 
 out under the old open shafts ; so he lasts, and he 
 likes it ; but we may find him dead some Monday 
 morning." 
 
 Touching his cap with a mechanical deference, 
 the man was shuffling by, when he paused, looked 
 round with a wild hesitation, lost all his stupefac- 
 tion on the instant, and suddenly turning, tossed 
 and flared his flambeau repeatedly in the face of 
 Sir Rohan, and then of Miriam. Passing his hand 
 quickly across his supernatural eyes, again he 
 peered into their faces. 
 
 " Ha' I dreamt ? " he cried sharply. " Ha' I 
 been dreaming ? Is it no score o' year sin I came 
 into the heart of earth ? Is it no score o' year sin 
 I saw the blessed daylight, or a star, save it 
 glinted as yon now in the bal above ye ? sin I 
 snuffed a wind creeping in fro' the sea, or heard 
 
120 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 aught but its roaring, for ye 're under the sea 
 now, d' ye ken ? and there 's no white godolcans 
 on high, with their steel eyne snappin on the gale, 
 an shrilling an shriking as yon o'er the moor ! 
 God ! han ye never gone yeself, ye and the bonnibel 
 beside ye ? Then I 've no broided bones, nor did 
 I fall. I ha' been in a swound. Sure, it 's the 
 glaze 011 my eye that makes your face so old and 
 deadlike, but the lass is young as I kent her. 
 No, no, ye must han a drug up above to keep 
 beauty and life, but ye 've not drunk it your- 
 self." 
 
 Sir Kohan made a movement to pass, and the 
 Captain motioned Dick away. He obeyed, but in 
 an instant shouted across the distance, " Wait a 
 bit, I 've something for ye ! " and was soon lost in 
 the obscurity. Before long, his light was again to 
 be seen, and shortly he waylaid them. 
 
 " Look at this ! " he cried, extending something 
 that glittered in his hand. " Ye don't mind it, 
 Miss, when ye wor down before ? How the master 
 gave ye the siller, and ye turned and gave it me, 
 sin it wor so like the ring ye wore on your third 
 finger ? Ye 've no ring there now." 
 
 " I don't know what he means," said Miriam. 
 " I was never here before." 
 
THE RINGS. 121 
 
 " Hoot ! so fair and lie ? lissom lass, mind 
 ye ! " and he laid what he held, in her hand. 
 
 It was a piece of silver, as it is sometimes found 
 in mines, crystallized in a slender stem and some 
 singular inflorescence that in shape resembled a 
 violet or the plant called heart's-ease. As she 
 looked at it, he snatched her hand, twisted the 
 supple stem round her finger : " God give ye 
 good-den.," said he, and vanished. 
 
 A deadly pallor had overspread Sir Rohan's 
 face ; he had dropped Miriam's hand, and stand- 
 ing apart, was surveying her with fierce, fixed 
 eyes. The dreadful thought crossed him, if it 
 were indeed his Ghost ; the words faltered on his 
 lips, but he strode away quickly without speaking, 
 and led them to the foot of the ladders. Soon 
 the white glare of the opening blinded them, and 
 in a few moments the fresh breath of the upper 
 world illustrated the horrors of the atmosphere 
 below, and with the cool winds blowing in and 
 out the open windows of the coach, they were 
 rapidly proceeding homeward. 
 
 11 
 
VI. 
 
 fanttyon. 
 
 THE next day being Sunday, St. Denys inquired 
 if there were any practicable church in the 
 neighborhood ; and soon, under Redruth's guid- 
 ance, departed with Miriam to find it, leaving Sir 
 Rohan to his primitive desolation. 
 
 Instantly, a loneliness utterly new overcame 
 him. These people, who had not been with him 
 half a week, and one of whom he had known but 
 three days, became suddenly as indispensable to 
 him as the air he breathed. The unusual stir 
 about the house, proceeding from the kitchen and 
 its occupants, only reminded him of the silence 
 aroimd himself; and unused to control any emo- 
 tion, except in its exhibition, he allowed the little 
 annoyance to vex him unbearably, while he paced 
 the long drawing-room and execrated the mur- 
 muring air that his rapid step set in motion about 
 
123 
 
 him like another presence. A scarf of Miriam's, 
 a tiny silken thing, lay across a chair ; he took it 
 up tenderly, as if it were a part of herself, for so 
 full of life did she seem to him that he fancied 
 her imparting her vitality to all around her. < But 
 I am myself half dead," he murmured. A glove 
 of hers had been dropped at the door, and scat- 
 tered violets from the bunch he had plucked for 
 her at sunrise marked her path across the lawn. 
 "It is a generous prodigality that distinguishes 
 her," he thought. " Her heart is so large as to 
 receive every creature with kindness, and she looks 
 at all men with equal eyes." Sir Rohan was on 
 dangerous ground; so he rolled the scarf and 
 glove together without lingering over their deli- 
 cate perfume, placed them by themselves, and 
 went up to grind colors. The clock struck the 
 quarter before two as he lifted the curtain of his 
 painting, and simultaneously feet and voices echoed 
 through the hall, and Miriam, searching drawing 
 and dining-room, called aloud, " Sir Rohan ! Sir 
 Rohan ! Do you know what day it is ? Do you 
 work on Sundays ? " 
 
 Sir Rohan dropped the curtain, despite the faint 
 and revengeful look that gathered over the face 
 beneath, and joined his guests like one ashamed. 
 
124 
 
 " What a queer little church ! " said Miriam, as 
 they sat at lunch. " It stands so lonely 011 that 
 long slope, and buttressed by those great cliffs, 
 with only three little lonely graves and the sea 
 before it, that I believed Uther Pendragon to have 
 said his prayers there ; but nobody since. I said 
 so to papa, going in, and a quick voice from no- 
 one-knew-where replied, 'I apprehend the gen- 
 tleman you refer to did not accustom himself to 
 that amusement.' One might have known who 
 spoke, but I could n't see him, till half through 
 the service, in the great pew opposite, there were 
 his evil eyes staring us out of countenance, at 
 least if Marc Arundel's eyes could do so much." 
 
 " Miriam, you don't mean to say " cried St. 
 Denys, dropping his fork. 
 
 " Precisely that, papa. He bowed with the con- 
 descension of a Prince Cardinal." 
 
 " You did n't return it in service, Miriam ? " 
 
 "0 no ! we were past the creed. So I was 
 oblivious of all the Arundels since the flood, till 
 leaving ; when I put as much graciousness and as 
 many smiles as could be crowded into a nod, and 
 gave it him." 
 
 " You are a coquette ! But I did n't see him." 
 
125 
 
 " dear, no, papa ! Your eyes were blinded 
 by your prayer-book." 
 
 " And where were yours ? " 
 
 " 0, mine are like those bugs, that see all ways 
 at once. What a superb altar-cloth that was ! 
 amaranth velvet, powdered with silver fleurs de 
 lis ; we must have one like it, at the Castle. Did 
 any ladies of your family make it, Sir Rohan ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ! There have been no ladies 
 in my family, you know, for many years ; that 
 little church flourishes under the Anmdelian 
 dynasty." 
 
 " I should n't wonder if Marc worked it him- 
 self," said Miriam. " It would be very fit employ- 
 ment ; he has such a finikin faculty of mending, 
 picking up, patching, surely he knows the scan- 
 dal of every family in the kingdom, papa! I 
 think he 'd like to make flourishes in gold 
 thread." 
 
 " You are growing vituperative, young lady," 
 said St. Denys. " But there is one fortunate 
 thing about this rencontre. He does not know 
 where we are." 
 
 "0, papa, that's too soothing a medicament; 
 he saw Redruth with us ! " she replied, pulling 
 
126 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 off her bonnet and suffering it to fall from her 
 fingers. 
 
 " You should have been less devout, and by 
 staying at home have avoided your friend," said 
 Sir Rohan. 
 
 "That's a remedy too late. But there's yet 
 another ; let us use expedition, and depart." 
 
 " Miss Miriam, you will not leave me yet ? " 
 
 u Why, Sir Rohan, if we stay we shall see Marc 
 Arundel." 
 
 " And if you go, I shall see worse." 
 
 " Do you really mean that you want us here ? " 
 
 " Most assuredly." 
 
 " Then, if content to have your retirement 
 broken in upon, all your household upset, and 
 your immutable decrees turned topsy-turvy by a 
 romping lass and an angelic gentleman, what did 
 you seek it for ? " 
 
 " Miriam, child," said St. Denys, " what affair 
 is that of yours ? " 
 
 " Do you be quiet, papa, if you can't return 
 your partner's lead." 
 
 " One may weary even of chosen pursuits, Miss 
 Miriam." 
 
 " Then you '11 soon weary of us, and we had 
 better go before that catastrophe." 
 
4Fanrl)0n. 127 
 
 " Give me, at least, the opportunity of trial." 
 
 " Now, papa, am I not a good diplomatist ? 
 You said, this very morning, we might be trespass- 
 ing after all, coming as we did into a student's 
 quiet without an invitation, like an irruption of 
 Saxons; and now I have procured you one, al- 
 though not starting with that intention," she 
 added, merrily. 
 
 " I don't know, little chatterbox, where that 
 tongue will lead you," said St. Denys. But Mir- 
 iam was already half dancing away, moved by 
 some fresh caprice. 
 
 It was toward the conservatory Sir Rohan's 
 mongrel between hot and green-houses being^thus 
 styled that Miriam now bent her steps ; and 
 always choosing the most unusual way, she pre- 
 ferred crossing the sill of the oriol at the back of 
 the drawing-room, to seeking it by either of the 
 hall-doors. It was built apart from the house, 
 and was kept by Sir Rohan with exquisite care, in 
 which labor an experienced gardener, one of his 
 nearest tenants, shared ; and here the owner's use- 
 less wealth had been lavished. Scarcely a rod 
 from the window, it looked thence, when the noon- 
 day sun illumined its gorgeous nurslings, like 
 
128 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 some sunset cloud blown into a nook of the great 
 buildings, and screened there from all harsh dis- 
 solving winds. Since it had been the place where 
 Sir Rohan grouped his colors and studied forms, 
 where, also, he had been least dejected, it was less 
 a formal hot-house than a wilderness of delights. 
 Once within it, and you fancied yourself in the 
 heart of the zone that girdles the earth with all 
 the beauty of that magical one of Yenus. 
 
 Miriam had not seen this place before, and in- 
 deed had no business there now, for it was as 
 private and peculiar to Sir Rohan as his painting- 
 room ; but she was one of those who take posses- 
 sion jpf whatever they see, and entering an open 
 door, a long green leaf and white-impearled 
 plume of the rice kissed her cheek in welcome. 
 She had not passed the threshold, before, rapt 
 into a new world, every sense concentrated itself 
 into that of scent ; every known perfume was waft- 
 ing toward her ; every blossom on the face of the 
 earth, she thought, was steaming with delicious 
 fragrance. There were no forms or tiers, but the 
 plants grew in broad beds, terraces, and mossy 
 mounds, where practicable, while the walks were 
 mosaicked in thick-strewn autumn leaves ; serpents, 
 
4Fancl)0n. 129 
 
 parded, barred, and mooned, like agates ; wings of 
 the Purple Emperor of the Woods, and gay fallen 
 feathers. At one point, long alleys lined with 
 splendid shrubs formed, in the sun, arcades of 
 diamond brightness, while half up their height 
 hung narrow galleries whose vines trailed over 
 balustrades of gilded network. Where the crystal 
 wall arched out in crescents, great cones of the 
 dark, shining leaves of orange, myrtle, and camel- 
 lia were massed against the fresh brilliancy of 
 tamarinds and enormous ferns whose intricate 
 meshes glittered like cobwebs in morning dew ; 
 while again, the rich green of the maranta was 
 thrown into deep shade by the startling light of 
 a mimosa tossing from its rude trunk a spray of 
 airy, tremulous foliage and long wreaths of gold- 
 en blossoms. Opposite these, an Indian coral- 
 tree loftily reared itself, clad in profuse scarlet 
 flowers ; and by its side the regal poinciana, still 
 breathing of Madagascar and southern wealth, 
 poised' its clusters, crimson and magnificent, on 
 large twin leaves all winged and nervous for 
 flight ; while counteracting discord, over them 
 and across, with snake-like coils, the tropical 
 bauhinia clambered and hung its white festoons, 
 
130 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 elegant, unequal, countless. From this excess of 
 color and contrast, the eye passed to a passion- 
 flower trellised in broad lace-work against the 
 glass, looking backward from the increasing 
 height, with its doubtfully blue and odorous 
 blooms, upon a bed of late, shade-loving violets 
 at its feet; on low brackets at one side here 
 stood vases of the rich, violet-colored gloxinia, 
 and paler daphne ; and higher, on the other, a 
 wide urn full of the purple Brazilian cleome, each 
 blossom like the claw of Jove's eagle grasping his 
 arrows, and round the urn the torenia twined in 
 wanton luxuriance with its dark-purple, velvety 
 bells. Easily the prevailing hue changed to the 
 soft shades of the ponera's buff fascicles, the 
 cream-dyed asystasia clinging breathlessly to the 
 wall, and the globy abutilon ; till turning sud- 
 denly round a dwarf-palm whose great fronds 
 waved with dreamy rhythm, she came again upon 
 a blaze of pomegranate-flowers, orange-colored 
 sesban, crimson clianthus, pecking like a bunch 
 of parrot's bills at the sunshine, an acacia, the 
 Persian Gul-ebruschim, rosily tufted with great 
 silken-threaded tassels, and the blue thunbergia 
 twisting the light columns near by with involti- 
 
-iTancljon. 131 
 
 tions of classical acanthus-leaves. For all these 
 flowers Sir Rohan forced to abandon their own 
 proper times and seasons, and bud, bloom, delay, 
 die, at their master's despotic pleasure. So, by 
 some secret of superb skill, ordaining for them 
 such unwithering perpetuity that the buds of May 
 became the bantlings of December. 
 
 Here, glowing carnations took the noon to their 
 hearts, and among them nestled the ivy-leaved 
 cyclamen, white, eager, listening ; and there, the 
 perpetual shiver of the hedysarum filled her with 
 a vague response, and the snowy tube-rose satiated 
 with a cloud of sweetest spice. Thrown, as things 
 were, into masses of intense hue, they attained 
 such individuality only by gradations as minute 
 in one place as daring in another ; while on this 
 exaggerated scale the combination of color might 
 be very different from that allowed by the fine 
 finish of a lady's toilet. Swinging from tiny cups 
 on high, grew the aerides, delicate and sweet ; and 
 above, hung in every way, the most fantastic, most 
 delicious orchids. White doves and swans seemed 
 floating in a world of greenery up the dome, fal- 
 cons with light on their pinions shooting from 
 spray to spray, vermilion-colored spiders sitting 
 
132 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 on some broad leaf, and rainbow-tinted fish swim- 
 ming the thinner medium of upper air, while, 
 grassy or pulpy as their stems might be, they all 
 wore a degree of grace, beauty, and novelty, not 
 to be rivalled. One epiphyte dropped its spiral 
 slowly down as she advanced, till a great moth, 
 with broad-balanced wings stained in crimson and 
 gold, danced gaudily before her eyes ; and round 
 her head, as she walked, waved the long, wide rib- 
 bons of Sumatra grasses. 
 
 Miriam wandered along in a maze. She had 
 brought her little bible with her, but sooth to say, 
 it was yet unopened, and at last she threw herself 
 into a chair of rough Madeira-wood, to recover a 
 moment from the intoxication. Beside her here 
 were all strange, mystic plants, with immense 
 leaves ; all tropical vines, sighing for their sul- 
 try, gloomy forests ; lush, dark things, still stained 
 with the steam of hot, humid regions ; rank trail- 
 ers, whose blue lips dripped with poisonous honey ; 
 and rich, feculent, aromatic scents, whose every 
 draught held death. It was Sir Rohan's idiosyn- 
 crasy. Over the whole place the pandang shed 
 his powerful breath, the rarest in the world, and 
 sacred to the gods themselves. 
 
JFancljon. 138 
 
 Near the other extremity, Miriam now saw a 
 group of figures, risen in a cluster, and through 
 the shimmer of water that surrounded them, still 
 rising, one might say. Some were above the oth- 
 ers, and one was uppermost of all ; with her right 
 hand upon the shoulder of the next, she seemed 
 to have sprung for a wreath which she held in the 
 uplifted one. It was a wreath of lilies, and from 
 the heart of each slowly issued a single drop, dif- 
 fusing and gathering again at the apex of the 
 petal, and falling forever, while tenuous threads of 
 water shot forth in pistil and stamen, and with the 
 perpetual drops wrapped this upper figure in tor- 
 rents, and powdered, as they fell, to a drizzling 
 rain that bathed the others in a veil of mist, till 
 they all seemed like dimmest, farthest shadows 
 risen from watery depths at some mortal call. In 
 the silent basin at their feet were tender aquatics, 
 the gems of Indian archipelagos and remoter seas ; 
 and the canals into which it ran lost themselves, 
 without borders, in a soft green moss. Beyond 
 this, baskets of roses, comprising all shades from 
 black over sanguine and damask to purest white, 
 transfigured themselves through the vapor into a 
 splendid fleece ; and flaming cacti made a rich 
 12 
 
134 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 background for the noiseless fountain, and as- 
 serted their own identity more vigorously because 
 robbing a hill of heliotropes behind of theirs. 
 
 While Miriam sat surveying this pandemonium 
 of scent and tint, the heat and fragrance had be- 
 come oppressive, her sense reeled under so strong 
 a cordial ; the sun, calling forth the heavy incense 
 of every leaf, threw his own life into theirs, and 
 when the gardener came and went, having drawn 
 the canvas awning over the roof, it seemed to shut 
 in the whole soul of the ascending atmosphere 
 and press it upon her. 
 
 She leaned back in her chair, inhaling the per- 
 fumes like a voluptuary, yet half doubting if the 
 enjoyment were healthy. Her eyes were partially 
 closed ; but in an instant they sprung wide open. 
 Something in the softened light, through the ful- 
 vid noon, was moving here, was taking shape, ris- 
 ing from the gray heliotropes and bringing their 
 passionate fragrance with her. Something so 
 pale, so fair, so thin, so sad, requiring no room, 
 yet making all room, where she once was felt, a 
 desert. Something floating toward her, never 
 tinged by any of the gorgeous shades under which 
 she passed ; white, through all the lurid changes 
 
135 
 
 of purple and gold and scarlet. Something that 
 seemed to imply strength for so much direr a form, 
 should she choose. Something still advancing, 
 till the heat became as if an iceberg had melted 
 in it ; pausing ; gazing at her with such infinite 
 tenderness and pity and mournful beauty ; passing 
 on, and fading like a moonbeam into the sun. 
 
 Miriam sunk back again, dazzled and dizzy; a 
 tlistant shout met her ear, she thought they 
 laughed at her dream, and wondered had she 
 really slept. 
 
 The only thing to contradict such supposition 
 was a purple heart' s-ease, which she was sure 
 she had never plucked, she said, lying in her 
 lap, pricked and threaded with the finest, finest, 
 long, dark, human hair. But as if seized by a 
 wind, when she would have touched it, it whirled 
 from her finger and disappeared. 
 
 She was frightened and trembling, faint with 
 awe ; all her muscles were relaxed, either the 
 close air or the vision had rendered her power- 
 less ; she felt abstractly that the position was 
 becoming perilous, when suddenly some one 
 dropped the sashes of the roof with a clang, and 
 a free current of cool wind swept gloriously in, 
 
136 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 tossing all the blooms, ruffling the smooth masses, 
 bringing forth new splendor and freshness and life 
 at every sigh. The reviving gale fanned Miriam's 
 temples a moment; then, without seeking the 
 cause, she clasped her bible and ran. 
 
 The cause was Sir Rohan ; he had uncon- 
 sciously drawn near the conservatory, had beheld 
 Miriam as the vision took shape, had watched her 
 through it, had withdrawn the sashes to relieve 
 her, and now himself stood pale, cold, and curs- 
 ing fate. For no magnetism was delicate enough 
 to impress upon her sight this burden of his 
 thoughts, and Miriam for the first and last time 
 had seen the Ghost. 
 
 In an hour or two Miriam re-entered the din- 
 ing-room, and finding no one, stepped into the 
 garden, where the two gentlemen were walking 
 and leaving fragrant wreaths of blue smoke be- 
 hind them as they walked. 
 
 " I wonder why people will make perambulating 
 chimneys of themselves," she exclaimed, as they 
 abandoned that occupation. " You, for one, sir, 
 promised to show me those south rooms at the top 
 of the house, where the sea is so plainly to be 
 seen. Come now ! " 
 
137 
 
 " With pleasure. St. Denys, will you join us ? 
 I fear you disappoint yourself, Miss Miriam." 
 
 " no, that is not possible," she cried. " I 
 never have passed any, time before under the same 
 roof that sheltered crumbling walls, forsaken 
 rooms, and deserts of dust. There will be unex- 
 plored closets, and old escritoires bursting with 
 lost records, and when we have broken out the 
 blackened panes, the prospect." 
 
 " Probably the storms have saved us that 
 trouble. "We may capture a swallow skimming 
 round there, or waylay a little owl." 
 
 " Then we will believe some damsel of the 
 Ladies Belvidere has been cruelly enchanted into 
 that form, and we are the powers come to loosen 
 the spell. Upon which the lady will leave the 
 owl, and live happily all her days, as the story- 
 books used to say." 
 
 " God forbid ! " said Sir Rohan, more heartily 
 than appeared reason, before she concluded. But 
 Miriam only laughed, and tripped on before them 
 up the stairway with the keys, which Mrs. Redruth 
 had given her, in her hand. At last, however, she 
 resigned them to their owner, who threw open 
 door after door into rooms destitute of furniture, 
 12* 
 
138 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 where the paper hung peeling from the wall ; but 
 Miriam found them all too small, and flitted rest- 
 lessly forward. 
 
 "Here is one," she said, as Sir Rohan would 
 have passed a door ; and so pertinaciously and like 
 a spoiled child did she return to the attack, that, 
 after hesitating till he was embarrassed, he turned 
 the key, and they entered one in full as ruinous a 
 condition as the others. The curiously netted 
 rafters overhead had been eaten by worms into the 
 similitude of quaint and delicate carving. The 
 floor was warped and depressed at the sides, and 
 heavy articles slanted against the wainscot or had 
 pitched forward and fallen into fragments. One 
 large window lighted it, glass and sash quite gone, 
 and moss bedded upon the stone lintel within. 
 Adjoining tin's window was a diagonal closet built 
 in one of the octagons of the wall, with two oaken 
 doors, looking through the collected deposits and 
 rusty hinges as if unopened since the erection of 
 the house. 
 
 " This promises more than any other," said Mir- 
 iam ; " were you ever in it before, Sir Rohan ? " 
 
 " Once or twice I may have been," he answered, 
 involuntarily glancing at one of the closet doors. 
 

 139 
 
 " I should think it was a place of pharmacy," 
 she added. " See that furnace and its little stone 
 crucible, and those phials and retorts upon the 
 table." 
 
 " Doubtless it was." 
 
 " Ah ! " said she, pulling a ribbon that lay on the 
 floor at the foot of the closet door, half escaped 
 therefrom. " And was any woman the victim of 
 their cabalistic arts ? "We are approaching the 
 mystery, Sir Rohan." And she examined the 
 ribbon, once some bright-colored thing, that yield- 
 ed to her grasp and hung in threads across her 
 fingers. What did it belong to ? " she asked. 
 " I wonder who wore it." 
 
 There is always something touching in decay, 
 and this little faded ribbon seemed to impart to 
 Miriam, for a moment, an air of sad sobriety. 
 But with his first glance Sir Rohan had endeav- 
 ored to withdraw her attention, and approaching 
 the window, said : " But the prospect ! In your 
 sentimental lute-string you will lose it," and he 
 tore aside the sheltering ivy. Miriam bent for- 
 ward, rapt an instant in the glory of the great 
 unrest before her. 
 
 " Come, papa. See it ! " she exclaimed, draw- 
 
140 SIB ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 ing St. Denys toward her. " It is scarcely better 
 than when out of sight of land one feels in dark 
 nights a world of water slipping under the keel ; 
 but what else equals it ? What color ! What 
 expanse ! What light ! " 
 
 Indeed there were few scenes to compare with 
 this ; for isolated from all surrounding scenery, the 
 bowery tree-tops of Sir Rohan's grounds tossing 
 below, and the whole set in the ivied framework 
 of the great window, you saw only the vast 
 loneliness, and heard only the tireless song of 
 illimitable sea. A narrow strip of yellow sand 
 bound the shore, washed by broad creamy waves, 
 breaking, without sparkles, in low humming 
 tones, and sobbing back into the gulfs again 
 with a stifled sough. Long blue lines of depth 
 and richness, as one sees the channels of rivers, 
 trailed across the ever shoreward advance ; and 
 beyond these, purple fields of stillness inflected 
 its surface, and further yet, where some island 
 cliff towered to the winds and turbulence of weath- 
 er, great sheets of foam aslant took the stray sun- 
 beams into their bosom and produced a miracle 
 of radiance. Overhead the sky soared faint yet 
 clear, with the dun haze upon its skirt that ever 
 haunts a sea-horizon. 
 
4Fancl)0it. 141 
 
 " And it is always so, Sir Rohan," said Miriam, 
 glancing at him a moment ; " all summer long, all 
 day, till the moon comes with her white serene- 
 ness, and swings it to and fro upon her queenly 
 will. And in clear nights of sweet darkness how 
 it must brood to itself, and what calm and hush 
 come instead, and overshadow it with unwavering 
 wings ! " 
 
 Now and then a little shallop furrowed some 
 cove, and again, from a misty distance a broad 
 white sail broke into life, and tacking through the 
 sunshine, buried itself from view in other firma- 
 ments. 
 
 " The sky is as worthy of study," said Sir Ro- 
 han. " Observe how the sea near the shore bor- 
 rows its hues and changes, but further out and 
 near the horizon, the sky borrows those of the sea. 
 The beauty here, one could swear, is eternal. It 
 is because we see it in the vast, the mass ; the de- 
 tails are not so pleasant." 
 
 " O, do you think so ? Don't you find any beauty 
 in those sea-anemones, and madrepores, and net- 
 tles with their fine scarlet and cool purple ? I 
 believe there are no such shades on your easel. 
 Surely you 've seen the sun-fish shining white and 
 
142 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 lucid, like a ghost under water, and the dying 
 colors of the mackerel along these shores." 
 
 " I did not think of those in speaking, and they 
 are hardly what I mean. Perhaps it is a peculiar 
 prejudice. In the midst of a thing, one can hardly 
 form a correct idea of it. One needs almost the 
 supremacy where may be seen the earth rocking 
 her great tides now on the long coast-line of the 
 Americas, now on all the broken gulfs and reaches 
 from Africa to Thule. We must come up here 
 some dark night, Miss Miriam, and see the briony," 
 he added. " Redruth and his boys shall go out in 
 their skiffs and whip the water till it is all aflame, 
 and over the sea of fire you will look to have the 
 heavens roll together like a scroll, and the last day 
 dawn upon us." 
 
 " Don't send them, then. I will enjoy here a 
 little longer. I don't care, yet, for that Last 
 Day." 
 
 " Miriam," said St. Denys, " why do you persist 
 in speaking so lightly ? " 
 
 " I never thought, papa, please forgive me," 
 she answered, turning quickly toward him. " You 
 won't be angry with me, frowning Puritan ? " 
 
 But the indulgent smile was reply enough, and 
 
-faiul)0tt. 143 
 
 her sole care dismissed, she returned to the enjoy- 
 ment of her view, while St. Denys moved away to 
 examine the garniture of the room. 
 
 " There was always a charm to me," said Sir 
 Rohan, " in the myths of those old existences of 
 ocean. Not Neptune, nor yet Nereids, and hardly 
 Mermen, but Spirits of the Sea." 
 
 " Yes," answered Miriam, " and I have fre- 
 quently thought, if I were not a woman, which 
 is a state so much sweeter, you know, that I 
 would choose my metempsychosis to be into a 
 water-mist, or any part of its great source." 
 
 " The sea is, nevertheless, foreign to me. It 
 seems when sparkling, too much like a living 
 thing rejoicing in the hurry and bustle of the 
 great world." 
 
 " To me it is a Beneficence." 
 
 " What ! with its caprice and treachery, its hol- 
 lows of green darkness beneath the shining shield 
 that sleeps in the sun, its rage and its laughter ; 
 remorseless, and yet, I can fancy, kind." 
 
 " All that is because you must float on it some 
 calm noon, in the shallows, where the sunbeams 
 bend into it and stain it a mort d'ore, as if yellow 
 waves were rising and falling below the skin of 
 
144 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 brown ripples, and every instant you might see 
 some glorious creature come sliding up their 
 under swell, all radiant with these Murillo tints, 
 these browns and gold^' 
 
 " Like yourself, Miss Miriam." 
 
 Thus speaking, the dialogue paused, and they 
 continued for a time silent, together watching dim 
 purple vapors that rose as Thetis rose to Achilles, 
 yet uncertainly, like smoke, and then crept 
 in silently over the land. For Miriam it was 
 the incense of the ocean, but for Sir Rohan the 
 palest and mournfulest of shadows fashioned her- 
 self from the ascending cloud to gaze at him, 
 vanishing as it spread, and gathering form again 
 in each succeeding one. 
 
 " We must wait till sunset," said Miriam ; 
 " how kind to bring me here ! " 
 
 " You have an artist's eye," lie rejoined ; but 
 looking at her to avoid the phantom, the relics 
 of the old ribbon caught his own again. Miriam 
 observed the glance, and immediately returned 
 to the topic from which he had so successfully 
 diverted her. " I wonder who wore it," she re- 
 peated. " May I open this closet, Sir Rohan ? " 
 
 Without waiting for his response, she turned 
 
iTancljon. 145 
 
 the rusty key quickly, and looked within. A 
 gray cloak lay on the floor, and a cap, linen and 
 once white, of some rustic pattern. Sir Eohan 
 could neither move nor speak ; too well he re- 
 membered the day in which he had thrown those 
 garments here, too homely grown for their wear- 
 er's use ; and now was this strange girl, inquis- 
 itively raising them, throwing the cloak round 
 her, setting the tattered cap gravely on her hair 
 and holding it by its single string, was she their 
 angel of resurrection ? to drag them into what 
 judgment! What right had she to come and 
 search his wounds with her curious fingers ? per- 
 haps, he thought on the moment, to heal them 
 with " sweet inspersion of fit balms." 
 
 Miriam had laughingly displayed herself to St. 
 Denys, while Sir Rohan repeated another ques- 
 tion which again and again had recurred ; but 
 quickly dropping them off, she exclaimed : 
 
 " And now I wonder what is in the other closet. 
 There is no key to it ; was it never opened ? " 
 " Never, to my knowledge." 
 " But can't you open it, Sir Rohan ? " 
 There was nothing more which he dreaded to 
 have her see ; indeed, he did not suppose there 
 
 13 j 
 
146 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 was anything else to be found there, and with his 
 knee against the panel, he shook it lightly and 
 brought away, as it unclosed, the lock and a part 
 of the rotten case. Immediately a great cloud of 
 offensive dust blew wildly out, seeking freedom 
 in the room; flew into his eyes and nostrils, 
 suffocating and blinding him. He half turned for 
 breath, and at the motion some shelf gave way 
 with a little crash, and countless yellow bones 
 tumbled rattling upon the floor, into his bosom, 
 striking his face and his extended arm; and a 
 human skull rolled away, splintering to fragments 
 at Miriam's feet. 
 
 " Fanchon ! Fanchon ! " he exclaimed, shaking 
 them off with a fierce gesture. 
 
 " What does it mean, Sir Rohan ? What does 
 it mean ? " cried Miriam, springing back. 
 
 " You must ask Redruth! " he retorted, scarcely 
 knowing what he said, and striding from the 
 room. " Let him look to it ! " 
 
 They followed noiselessly, St. Denys first paus- 
 ing to lock the door ; but Sir Rohan had preceded 
 them with such rapidity that he was out of sight 
 when they resumed, and at the grand staircase 
 they met Redruth ascending with a box, and a 
 
147 
 
 pale, shivering housemaid with dust-pan and brush, 
 the teeth of the girl chattering in her head. 
 
 At dinner Miriam was surprised to see their host 
 cool as usual, and hurried that she might ask 
 Redruth to explain it ; moreover, the silence she 
 kept concerning the hour in the conservatory 
 excited her. 
 
 " I am afraid Miss Miriam is frightened," said 
 Sir Rohan, when she had gone. " She was so dif- 
 ferent, so still." 
 
 " She may be a little curious," replied the 
 other, cracking his nuts, " not much more." 
 
 " It was very singular. You remember I once 
 told you the little legend, but never put faith 
 in it." 
 
 " This confirms it, then ? " 
 
 " Yes. See that ; the maid found it among 
 those bones ; " and he put into St. Denys's hand a 
 gold girdle-clasp once set with jewels, and wear- 
 ing in old English text the word Jandjott- 
 
 Miriam found Redruth in the housekeeper's 
 room, looking over an old gazette that St. Denys 
 had brought with him. 
 
 " You are pale, Miss Miriam, paler than 
 usual," he said, putting it aside. 
 
148 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " Truly I may be," she replied. " I think the 
 whole house is paler ; I can't stay in it, I shall 
 have to run away." 
 
 She sat down on a stool near him, and resting 
 her head in her hands, said : 
 
 " When I asked Sir Rohan what it meant, he 
 said, ' You must ask Redruth ! let him look to it 1 ' 
 So you may tell me why he cried, < Fanchon ! Fan- 
 chon ! ' Pah ! " she declared, shaking her head 
 and making a wry face, " I can smell it now, 
 that dust ! " 
 
 " You might ask me ? Sir Rohan said you 
 might ask me ? " he replied. " Why, Miss, it 's 
 not much to tell. You must know, in the first 
 place, that Sir Rohan and I, though I am far the 
 elder, are a sort of foster-brothers ; for his mother 
 died before he was a weanling, and mine had just 
 lost her own child. Well do I remember this 
 little dark baby crying pitifully in so strange a 
 world, as my mother held it. I was a tall younker 
 then, and something taller when his father sent 
 him away to school, and me with him ; and there 
 I picked up a little learning myself, as you may 
 guess. And when Sir Rohan went to the uni- 
 versity, another servant was sent him, and I re- 
 
auction. 149 
 
 turned to manage the lands. And his own father, 
 in dying then, bade me never forget we were fos- 
 ter-brothers, and serve him with the love which 
 one blood begets. Well I believe I have obeyed ; 
 and who could help it, could help loving my 
 master, Miss Miriam ! He went, when he finished 
 his studies, to a place in the North that his moth- 
 er's brother left him, for his father had been a 
 strange old man, and lived much as Sir Rohan 
 lives now; and the place was damp and full of 
 underbrush and mould, and when he came here, 
 that time I told you of, he did n't like it. But by 
 and by he fitted it up fine enough for a bride, 
 then returned and lived alone and let everything 
 run to seed. My dear young master ! " continued 
 Redruth, in an altered tone, " you see him now 
 so sad and worn, Miss, and admire him of course. 
 I wonder what you 'd have thought when, so tall 
 and dark and slender as he is, he had a color in 
 his cheek and light in his eye, and though never, 
 may be, a handsome man, yet with a power about 
 him, a stern singular way of constraining you, so 
 that I fancy he might have won any woman's 
 
 love " 
 
 " But what has all this to do with the bones ? " 
 
 13* 
 
150 
 
 " True enough. I ramble, don't I ? Only that 
 I am his foster-brother, and long ago, a great 
 many generations ago, there was. another foster- 
 brother. But the heir then was a maiden, Dame 
 Fanchon. My master is not in the direct descent 
 with her, for she was the last of her line, and the 
 title went to cousins, the second house, I think. 
 But as I began to say, Dame Fanchon was ac- 
 counted beautiful, and there were many who 
 asked her in marriage, and her father greatly 
 desired to see her choose a husband. Yet she 
 seemed in no hurry, and time passing on, the 
 foster-brother got the old man somehow in his 
 power, and demanded Fanchon for his wife. She 
 refused disdainfully, to be sure, but her father 
 implored her, and then undertook compulsion. 
 She was a proud lass, but they bowed even her 
 spirit, and at last she yielded. So, on a time, her 
 women dressed her for a bride, and pinned in her 
 hair the wreaths and veils and gauds, and led her 
 down to her father and the bridegroom. And as 
 near as I can recollect, she said to him in French, 
 ' My father, one foster-brother has ruined your 
 line, and another will bring it to dust.' 
 
 " Then she said she would yet go up to her 
 
-fatuijott. 151 
 
 room and pray, before starting for the church ; 
 and she never came down again. When they 
 went to seek her, my lady, she was not to be found, 
 and never has been found till this day. 
 
 " They searched the country through, away 
 beyond the Dart, and looked somewhat in the 
 house ; but who dreamed of her hiding herself 
 there ? Perhaps she meant to come out o' nights 
 for food, knowing her white raiment would startle 
 whoso saw her; though I can't think what she 
 meant to do with herself. They did n't do their 
 work thoroughly, Miss Miriam ; one should not 
 half break a spirit, it 's labor lost. 
 
 " But young Dame Fanchon never came out 
 again, for up there just now I found, slipped down 
 the crack of the closet threshold, beyond reach of 
 her little fingers, this key. She had locked her- 
 self in at the sudden freak, and dropping the 
 key, it must have fallen there, leaving her with 
 nothing but despair ; since, if she made any efforts, 
 the door resisted them, and there was no one to 
 hear her cries in that far corner, had she "raised 
 her voice, if, after all, she did not choose that 
 starvation to the other fate, and by losing the key 
 put succor beyond her reach. 
 
152 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " I remember now hearing that servants, sleep- 
 ing in that room, died of strange fevers or wasted 
 away ; but how it came to be guessed where she 
 was, I never knew, though no one could tell ex- 
 actly in which room she had secreted herself. But 
 you know, Miss Miriam, murder will out. That 
 is why Sir Rohan called Fanchon ! " 
 
 " And why must you look to it ? " 
 
 " Why ! 0, I suppose because I am a foster- 
 brother, though God knows there is no service 
 too great for me to render him ! Bring his house 
 to dust ? I would die before I would do him an 
 injury, before I would let a sorrow reach 
 him!" 
 
 " You are a very good man, Mr. Redruth," she 
 said. " I don't believe you ever would harm Sir 
 Rohan. I don't know how you can. Poor Fan- 
 chon ! Do you suppose it was her ghost I saw in 
 the greenhouse to-day ? " 
 
 " A ghost in the daytime ! Come, Miss Miriam, 
 that 's silly." 
 
 " Then sunshine and blue sky are silly. I don't 
 belfeve, now, that they ever come in the night." 
 
 " You saw a ghost ? " he asked, with a singu- 
 larly perturbed air. 
 
153 
 
 " Why, Mr. Redruth, -you mustn't laugh at me. 
 
 I don't know, yes. Was it hers ? " 
 
 " Hers ? No, not her ghost, not hers." 
 
 " Whose was it, then ? " she said, rising. "How 
 
 absurd I am ! What would papa say ? Well, I 
 
 can't help it. Poor Fanchon ! " 
 
VII. 
 
 TESTIMONY. 
 
 A FEW more days vanished like the others, 
 when one morning Miriam said, 
 
 " Do you know, Sir Kohan, this is our anniver- 
 sary ? We have been here just a week, we have 
 known each other just a week. At least it would 
 be, if seven days made a year." 
 
 " I presume you would think me very uncour- 
 teous to say that it seems to me a year." 
 
 "Indeed I should." 
 
 " I have just begun to live ; and to the ^little 
 child days, you remember, are ages. I am per- 
 plexed to know why it should seem so long a 
 time," he returned. " Possibly, because so full of 
 happiness that it will take me a year to recall it." 
 
 " I don't know, sir. I should think you might 
 always have your life as pleasant." 
 
 " You have found this time pleasant, then ? " 
 
TESTIMONY. 155 
 
 "0 yes indeed. All time is, to me. No one 
 could help being happy where papa is." 
 
 "Do you suppose happiness independent of 
 him would be possible ? " 
 
 " 0, I hope not. I wonder, almost, how you 
 lived before he came." 
 
 " It is not all papa, Miss Miriam," he said, 
 quickly ; but a glance at those innocent brown 
 eyes silenced anything like compliment, and pres- 
 ently St. Denys entered. 
 
 "It is odd that we see nothing of Arundel," 
 said he, after the morning salutations. 
 
 " I should n't be surprised," Miriam answered, 
 " if he came to-day, it is so fine. We were talk- 
 ing yesterday of visiting one more celebrity, while 
 here, Sir Rohan. Can't we go at once ? Which 
 shall it be, Trevethy stone or Tyntagel ? " 
 
 " You can have both, Miss Miriam. Why not ? " 
 
 " It will take so long " 
 
 " And when I go to Kent you shall show me 
 every hop-field in the county. I shall be in no 
 hurry." 
 
 " But when we are there, will you ever come 
 to Kent ? " 
 
 "It is my turn to ask now, < Do you really 
 want me ? '" 
 
156 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " And mine to put on the air of a Monseigneur, 
 and answer, 4 Most assuredly.' ' 
 
 " Then it will depend upon whether you stay 
 here a suitable period without grumbling." 
 
 " Mr. Fox ! nobody knows better how to ask 
 a crow for a song ! But we can't go to both in 
 one day. I '11 toss up and see," she exclaimed, 
 laughing. " But I 've no pennies ! " 
 
 " Never mind," said St. Denys ; " two roses 
 will do as well." 
 
 Miriam seized one, and a broad grape-leaf. 
 " If the rose fall first, it shall be Tyntagel," said 
 she, "and if the leaf, why, Trevethy ! " And 
 throwing them into the air, the rose dropped 
 instantly, and the leaf fluttered downward in 
 doubt to fall or not. " Tyntagel it is ! " she cried. 
 
 " Scarcely so fair as the flinger, though," said 
 Sir Rohan. 
 
 " Now, now ! The rose is a little the heaviest, 
 and I had a little rather go to Tyntagel," she 
 returned, pushing back the drooping hair. " Be- 
 sides, Trevethy means a place of the dead, old 
 British dead too, you said. But one can see a 
 grave everywhere, and it is doing the business too 
 cheaply to have one stone for a whole congrega- 
 tion." 
 
TESTIMONY. 157 
 
 " But what present congregation, at the end of 
 a thousand years, will be known by so much as 
 the fragment of a stone ? " asked St. Denys. 
 
 " And what is Tyntagel," pursued Sir Rohan, 
 " but the monument of a whole race ? " 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, I am going to Tyntagel, and 
 therefore to breakfast. If you prefer stones to 
 bread, you can stay and discuss the question," 
 she merrily concluded. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that the afternoon found 
 them at the inner base of the great cliffs of Tynta- 
 gel, and singly winding up the narrow footpath. 
 As Sir Rohan followed the others, and the peril of 
 the precipitous way became more obvious to him, 
 his heart beat with a loud fear lest some false step 
 of the adventurous girl's might hurl her down the 
 dizzy height ; and he could have found such a 
 wish, that his strong hand might save her. But 
 nothing of the kind occurred, and they stepped 
 safely across the breach of the old fortress, into the 
 open area of the outer portion. 
 
 Behind them now lay the great gap in which 
 some earthquake had rent the rock, and far down 
 whose griesly chasm sea-birds built their nests 
 and black tides washed in and out, once spanned 
 
 14 
 
158 
 
 by a drawbridge connecting the twin cliffs and 
 forming a part of the most impregnable strong-hold 
 Britain boasted. The low ruins of the walls reared 
 a parapet around the edge, and leaning on this 
 lightly, at first, that it should not crumble at their 
 weight, they looked down and out upon the At- 
 lantic which dashed at a vast and perpendicular 
 depth of hundreds of feet. Above them, the heav- 
 en hung burning with yellow light and clearness, 
 like a giant chrysolite ; and the sea below, full of 
 stormy vigor and tumultous activity, leaped joy- 
 ously to catch the breath of the soft cool wind that 
 came singing in from western continents, and 
 tossed a thousand white caps in air with sonorous 
 glee. Under them, hidden caves rumbled to the 
 pent up element and the sucking flow of water ; 
 and now and then a mightier wave showered its 
 powdery foam half up the unyielding barrier, and 
 thrilled it to its centre. 
 
 It was too grand a thing to behold and speak, 
 this broad and boundless phase of the whole 
 ocean's immensity; these warm swells rolling in 
 from reefs of the Corrientes and Florida, from 
 Africa and the Western Islands ; this wind that, it 
 was pleasant to believe, had touched no land since 
 
TESTIMONY. 159 
 
 it bent the unexplored forests on the mountains of 
 the Americas ; and they received it in silence. 
 At last, as if the white gulls had thrown the mel- 
 ody of their motions into a sound, Miriam's voice 
 rose on the monotone of the symphony, in the 
 words of the song. 
 
 Thy giant rocks, O Tyntagel ! 
 
 Toss back the javelins of the sprays, 
 Nor ever can their shouldering swell 
 
 Remove thee from thy flinty base. 
 
 Idly the winds blow o'er thee now 
 That once have swept a continent ; 
 
 Who putting ashes on thy brow 
 Long since to ancient ruin went. 
 
 The spell that Merlin's magic keeps, 
 
 Though not omnipotent to save, 
 Still hovers round thee, while he sleeps, 
 
 Sleeps bound and sealed within his cave. 
 
 What perfect forms of old romance 
 Crown thee in visions soft or stern ! 
 
 How fair across the bright expanse 
 
 Still looks and sighs the sweet Yguerne ! 
 
 Still waits his shield upon the wall, 
 His knights in chivalrous content ; 
 
 Still from his airy palace hall 
 Great Arthur climbs thy battlement. 
 
160 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 Thy foes their laurels pluck from thee, 
 
 Saxon forgets that he is such, 
 And Time's resistless enmity 
 
 Turns to a lingering, loving touch. 
 
 Dance yet the Fays within thy ring, 
 
 The Fays who knew and served him well, 
 
 Whose royal gifts hung on the King, 
 Thy valiant King, O Tyntagel ? 
 
 O listen with them, when the dawn 
 Stirs in the night, to that wild bell, 
 
 Whose selfsame peals rung in the morn 
 When Arthur fell, Tyntagel ! 
 
 As the last word died from her lips, Miriam 
 turned, with a broad smile, and flinging off all sen- 
 timent, said, 
 
 " That 's what the song says, Sir Rohan, and 
 what do you say ? Do you believe in the Round 
 Table, in Galahad, and Lancelot, and Guinever ? " 
 
 " Devoutly." 
 
 " Let us shake hands upon it ! So do I. Papa 
 laughs at me ; but why not believe in them ? They 
 were much better people than ordinary then, and 
 surely it's refreshing." 
 
 " My dear, I deny your major." 
 
 " Then, papa, you '11 have nothing at all to say 
 
TESTIMONY. 161 
 
 to the kernels of truth dropped in debate, and we 
 had best carry the argument to more general 
 grounds." 
 
 "There used to be another song about your 
 hero," said St. Denys, " though not in so grandiose 
 a style, concerning some foray or marauding affair, 
 it would be called petty theft now, if there were 
 any law for these epic monsters. It related his 
 address in stealing three pecks of barley-meal, and 
 the Queen's skill in putting into it lumps of suet 
 as big as my two thumbs." 
 
 " Fie, papa ! " 
 
 " Those were the fabulous exploits," responded 
 Sir Rohan. " Miss Miriam and I believe only the 
 canon, and reject the apocrypha." 
 
 " Chronicle or Romance, Sir Rohan ? " 
 
 " Chronicle, Romance, and Tradition ; a pretty 
 braid enough, let the Romance be the golden 
 strand, though," he replied. 
 
 " We must discard you for an infidel, papa, 
 while we settle the points for ourselves. Here, 
 Sir Rohan ! Look at your feet. Who drew that 
 old circle in the stones ? " 
 
 " Merlin, undoubtedly," he said. 
 
 " A part of some horoscope. Very well, let us 
 
 14* 
 
162 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 stand in it, and summon the shadows of our an- 
 tiquity. They are very far off; imagine that we 
 have burned incense and these shapes grow from 
 the curling smoke. How dim they come ! You 
 begin to see them ? Stately Sir Caradoc and his 
 faithful Dame, the bold butler, Gawain, Tristram ; 
 now a throng glides up, now separate and singly. 
 Who is this, King of men, this mightier one, his 
 brow lofty in the shadow of a plume waving from 
 his starlike helm, clad in the shine of armor, and 
 bearing a spear of light ? And who this bright, 
 willowy shape, all wrapped in gleaming lawns, an 
 April face of smiles and tears, glancing askance at 
 Lancelot already here ? " 
 
 " Or perhaps Guinever is in a sadder mood, 
 chilled in the atmosphere of the King, pale, 
 white, sorrowful," interposed Sir Rohan. 
 
 " Hush ! It wouldn't be Guinever. Don't 
 you see her personality ? Tristram's lady may 
 know sorrow ; Marc's, repentance ; but Lancelot's, 
 only love. The others might question of right or 
 wrong ; but it was a part of Guinever' s self to love 
 Lancelot and not the King, and conscience never 
 stings her. Yery wicked, indeed, Sir Rohan ! 
 But then what a pretty picture Guinever always 
 
TESTIMONY. 163 
 
 is ! A lawless, soulless, wanton, witching, lovely 
 thing, without a moral perception, changing and 
 beautiful as a shower with broken bits of rainbow 
 in the clouds. And her queendoin and all its 
 gorgeous accessories shrine her fitly, and heighten 
 her charms. Who blames Lancelot ? She must 
 be queen, not because Arthur is king and mates 
 among his peers, but because she is Guinever. 
 Everything she touches gains in splendor. Lan- 
 celot might be a clown who knows ? if Gui- 
 never did not love him. Does not a fresher green 
 burgeon on the forest shawes as they ride beneath ? 
 Are n't her falcons, snarling at their bells and 
 jesses, transformed Genii ? Does she toss a flower 
 to her knight in tourney, it is a rain of un- 
 known petals. I wonder how he conquered, for 
 the sun must always have been in his face ! And 
 it is the same Guinever who tries on the magic 
 belt. See, it was a narrow golden band when 
 one by one the faithless ladies tried to clasp it. 
 Guinever takes it ; the King is angry-eyed, per- 
 haps, there is a flush on Lancelot's cheek, 
 none on hers. Laughing, bright-eyed, dimpled, 
 she reaches it, brings it round the slender waist, 
 essays with taper fingers to shut the buckle. Of 
 
164 
 
 course, it is in vain ; of course the gap yawns 
 finger-wide ; but where is the narrow golden band ? 
 Beneath her touch what miracles of chasing, 
 wrought-work, fluting, have blossomed ! It hangs 
 unclasped and heavy with jewelry, dripping with 
 chain, filigrane, and aiglet. What loops and 
 fringes of sparkling costliness, strings threaded 
 with precious ransom-holding beads, festoons and 
 tassels of gems, brilliant with every tint, a sun 
 inside them all, and defying the wondrous work 
 of the King's hilt ! Nine years it took for that, 
 for this, an instant. And when she looks up with 
 that radiant laugh, I suspect the King had rather 
 see it than the shut buckle. As a piece of art, 
 she is faultless ; her beauty is her virtue, a per- 
 fect, splendid creature, in her way. Let her go." 
 
 " Ah, before they pass, ask her of these inter- 
 vening centuries, in what region they dwell ; 
 these immortal lovers, what life they lead. Will 
 they speak ? " 
 
 " I wonder, Sir Rohan," replied Miriam, ab- 
 ruptly, " if people who never used or cultured 
 their souls did n't lose them, like beasts of the 
 field, as we assume ; living in a world of sense, 
 if, sense dying, they died too. If they dwell at all, 
 
TESTIMONY. 165 
 
 these immortal lovers, it is in some happy region, 
 they are so blithe and fair to-day. No, Guinever 
 will not speak. She does not know our language, 
 and is of a different race ; and Lancelot does not 
 see us. They are shadows of dreams, I think." 
 
 " What then keeps them ? Whose power holds 
 them now at your call ? " 
 
 "Didn't you ever notice how the old masters 
 claim property in their pictures, sir? Down in 
 the hem of some garment, on the under side of a 
 spire of grass, just half beneath a stone, a tiny 
 scrawl, the ' Ghirlandaio,' or ' Beatus hoc fecit' ? 
 So invoke what scene you may, whose background 
 is the stones of Tyntagel or Carlisle, there is 
 always the signature of that son of the royal nun 
 and the Genius ; Merlin, Sir Rohan, hoc tenet." 
 
 "You are learned in the lore. Tell me, En- 
 chantress, will Arthur come again?" 
 
 " A many tunes," Miriam answered lightly. 
 
 "And his Queen?" 
 
 "No. He comes because he went. Guinever 
 and Lancelot, it may be, never died." 
 
 " What said they, meeting at the tomb, that au- 
 tumn day ? " Sir Rohan asked again. 
 
 " Peccavimus. bah ! it must have lost all 
 
166 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 piquancy when the great hero was gone. I don't 
 like the book after Guinever grows good ; I don't 
 believe it. It 's getting tiresome now. There 
 they go ! Passing on and up in what a glorious 
 cloud, with flashing faces breaking from it in radi- 
 ant smiles. Let them pass ! " 
 
 Sir Rohan smiled, and St. Denys said: "What 
 new freak now, little one ? " 
 
 " Freak ? Why, papa, such a wind fans one's 
 life into notice." 
 
 " And how much youth goes to the fuel of this 
 precious flame ? " 
 
 " He throws my years in my teeth ! " she re- 
 turned, pouting and laughing. " But I 'm not a 
 sexagenarian yet." 
 
 " Don't exhaust your spirits before you are, nor 
 forget the true San Graal in your admiration of 
 the Emerald," he said, strolling away. 
 
 " He would n't scold if he enjoyed La Morte 
 d'Arthur." 
 
 " You enjoy it, Miss Miriam ? " 
 
 " Certainly. It 's a toysome book, better than 
 playing at dolls always." 
 
 " But your lore is far more Rabbinical than or- 
 thodox. La Morte d'Arthur is not responsible for 
 
TESTIMONY. 167 
 
 it all, I hope. And you don't like books, you say ; 
 what attracted you there ? " 
 
 " Who knows ? Papa says I live in feeling, not 
 thoiight; in the sensational, emotional, nothing 
 of the intellectual. But what odds, so one is 
 happy?" 
 
 For a little while Miriam, leaning over the para- 
 pet, crumbled the bits of stone and moss into the 
 sea, and Sir Rohan still remained within the cir- 
 cle, looking inland. * 
 
 "Do you see Sir Kaye come riding up the path, 
 that you are so earnest ? " she asked, glancing 
 back at him. "Or is the nation marching to 
 Camelford by moonlight, and Mordred looming 
 beyond the town ? Remember, sir, that the Queen 
 beseeches Arthur not to risk the kingdom, but 
 wait till Lancelot and the flower of the chivalry 
 return from France." 
 
 Sir Rohan felt as if he were possessed, her 
 words and tone carried such a life with them. 
 
 " Is n't it grand to think, Sir Rohan," she con- 
 tinued, walking to and fro with very long steps, 
 her arms folded, and her eyes on the ground, 
 " that Arthur walked here, as I am walking n6w, 
 his spurs clanging on the pavement, and Excalibur 
 
 
168 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 rattling in his sheath for longing of the strife ? " 
 And she looked up, her eyes sparkling, and cheeks 
 burning. " Or here, long before," she resumed, 
 approaching and standing beside him, with her 
 hand upon the stone, her eyes dewy, her smile 
 vanishing, " was the bower of his mother, that sad 
 Yguerne of the song, who sat waiting in vain for 
 her lord when the banners of Uther Pendragon 
 were spread. There, perhaps," she added, chang- 
 ing her expression to one of exultant sagacity, 
 " the old magician learned his incantations of the 
 stars, when all the castle but sentinel and watch- 
 dog slept; or rose and passed them unseen to 
 meet Fay Vivien in the woods, or bury himself in 
 the Welsh hills. To think that actually here, in 
 this very spot, they lived, loved, moved ! " 
 
 "You are intensely dramatic, Miss Miriam! 
 Such talent of fusing your individuality is not to 
 be wasted," Sir Eohan exclaimed, as he watched 
 the vivacious changes of her countenance. 
 
 " I am brought from rny world with your gal- 
 lantry ! " she replied, shrugging her shoulders. 
 " I should think the ghosts of these heroes would 
 come and haunt you, since you believe in them, 
 for such levity. Do you remember the sword the 
 
TESTIMONY. 169 
 
 Lady of the Wood gave the infant St. George, 
 teaching him to fight with shadows ? One I can- 
 not give, but for the other, you too may fight 
 such shadows." 
 
 With the words, his old chains fell back on 
 Sir Rohan ; he recalled what nothing but her 
 presence had made him forget, and the angry 
 gleam shot again from his eyes, but unnoticed 
 by Miriam, for St. Denys was drawing near with 
 a flat piece of stone in his hand. 
 
 " Is it not singular, Rohan ? " said he, dis- 
 playing its surface, where lay the impression of 
 a small and delicate hand with a ring on the 
 third finger. The inside of the left hand, but 
 not a wedding-ring, if one might judge from 
 the fact that being twisted round it had stamped 
 its jewelled sigil there. A hot color suffused 
 Sir Rohan's face; he struck one hand into the 
 other with a vehemence that caused his compan- 
 ions to start, and see his eager glance fixedly 
 bent upon the stone. 
 
 "It is a piece of steatite, such as is abundant 
 in the vicinity, and forms a large portion of the 
 Lizard," said another voice, proceeding from 
 none of them. They all looked up, and Sir 
 
 15 
 
170 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 I 
 Rohan surveyed a gentleman, not short, but 
 
 rather stout, florid, and with a most singular 
 cast of features, the prominence of nose and 
 chin sinking the mouth into an abyss where it 
 was obliged to have recourse to an unvarying 
 smile to avoid total collapse, while the eyes, 
 large and light, shone shrewdly beneath shaggy 
 brows. This person was not well dressed, since 
 somewhat too showily, but had a pleasing, per- 
 suasive voice, and a graceful manner. 
 
 " The steatite, you are aware," he continued, 
 " when first broken into is soft, and will receive 
 any impression ; and this being probably done 
 at such a time, brought here and forgotten by 
 other sight-seers, is after all not so curious. 
 How do you do, St. Denys ? A handsome hand, 
 though. Place your own upon it," added this easy 
 personage to Miriam. " It will fit it to a T." 
 
 Miriam scornfully turned her back upon him, 
 while St. Denys gravely inquired concerning his 
 health, and half hesitatingly touched his prof- 
 fered hand. " You need n't be afraid, St. 
 Denys," muttered he. "I won't eat her." 
 
 But almost immediately Miriam returned, and 
 presented him to Sir Rohan as Marc Arundel. 
 
TESTIMONY. 171 
 
 " Happy to make your acquaintance, sir," 
 said the latter. " A little odd, though, that one 
 must come from Kent to introduce neighbors." 
 
 " This stone is like the ring the miner gave 
 me," said Miriam. 
 
 "What! you were those down there, then?" 
 
 "Yes. The earth opened and swallowed us 
 up, the other day, Mr. Arundel," she replied. 
 
 " I was passing the shaft, to-day, when I saw 
 a maniac-looking fellow lying on the grass in 
 the midst of a group. He had ascended from 
 the mine, they said, not long before ; but the 
 world spun the other way for him; he was dy- 
 ing, raving feebly about a ring, and people, 
 who, I see now, must have been you. You re- 
 member him, Sir Rohan, Dick Roy?" 
 
 Sir Rohan replied with such graciousness as 
 he could command, and as St. Denys relin- 
 quished the curiosity, took it for closer exam- 
 ination, and then dashed it into the sea where 
 it was swallowed by a hungry wave. It seemed 
 to burn his hand. He found himself more mis- 
 erable than when alone; for then he had often 
 been strung to the required tension of stoical 
 endurance ; but here, every hour gave him de- 
 
172 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 sire and hope of freedom, only to be blasted in 
 the next by encounters with the Ghost of his 
 youth. 
 
 "I never learned till now," said Arundel, 
 bluntly, as he watched him, " that you and my 
 cousin were friends." 
 
 " We have been friends a long while," re- 
 plied the other, absently. 
 
 "They can hardly show you a kickshaw like 
 this, at home. Were you ever in Kent, Sir 
 Rohan?" 
 
 " Some years ago. A short time." 
 
 " Good soil that. Healthy farmers, worth a 
 lease; but they put all their liveliness into 
 their hops. Do you think they could dance a 
 reel, now, St. Denys?" 
 
 " A reel or a saraband, if they chose," was the 
 curt reply. Sir Rohan's frigidity was conta- 
 gious, and Arundel crossed to Miriam. 
 
 "You have not wished me good evening," 
 said he. 
 
 " Good evening," she returned, abruptly. 
 
 " It sounds much more like good by." 
 
 "You can take it as you please." 
 
 "You are cruel," he said in a lower tone. 
 
TESTIMONY. 173 
 
 "From your kindness in the church, I was led 
 to expect a different demeanor." 
 
 "Dear me, Mr. Arundel! One must have a 
 little meter to mark the finer grades of feeling, 
 and accommodate one's manners to your moods ! " 
 
 "Rem acu tetigisti. Precisely, Miriam. And 
 that meter, you cannot fail to know, is " 
 
 Miriam yawned with her hand at her lips. 
 
 "Isn't it time to go, papa?" she said to St. 
 Denys. " It will be dark before we reach 
 home." 
 
 "Home." Sir Rohan liked the word from 
 her mouth; he smiled unconsciously while his 
 glance met Arundel's. On the instant, they 
 comprehended each other. 
 
 " See Redruth sitting down there," she added, 
 bending over the path, "as still as " 
 
 "Is he asleep beside those remains of lunch ? " 
 asked Arundel. 
 
 " The cliff. One might drop a tortoise on his 
 head -and crack it," she continued. 
 
 " Crack which ? " Arundel interpolated. 
 
 "But where would Redruth be then, I won- 
 der?" 
 
 " Still squeezing his wine-bottle ! " said the 
 
 15* 
 
174 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 quick-eyed interrupter. " He takes less scru- 
 ples to a dram than an apothecary does." But 
 having finished her sentence regardless of the 
 rejoinders, Miriam seized her bonnet and almost 
 bounded along the path, followed by Sir Rohan 
 who, together with the others, expected mo- 
 mently to see her dashed down the declivity. 
 
 They descended more leisurely, and as his un- 
 welcome company was not to be avoided, Arundel 
 soon seated himself beside them in the coach. 
 Sir Rohan, however, was now alive, and quietly 
 ordering Redruth to take a different route from 
 that by which they came, had the satisfaction of 
 dropping Mr. Arundel at his own residence, and 
 rolling homeward at liberty once more. 
 
 " Well done, Sir Rohan ! " cried Miriam. " Now 
 you 've seen the man, tell me, do you affect 
 him?" 
 
 " We are not likely to be friends," said he, 
 dryly. 
 
 "And need not therefore be enemies," said 
 St. Denys. "The sight of him warns me, Ro- 
 han. -I must hasten." 
 
VIII. 
 
 THE FOREHEAD OF THE STORM. 
 
 TIME passed now more swiftly by them all : by 
 St. Denys, examining the great estate with 
 Redruth, offering suggestions, and relating in- 
 credible feats of some machinery he had used on 
 summer fallows ; by Miriam and Sir Rohan in 
 rides through the bridle-paths of the forest, where 
 tangled vines impeded progress and occasioned 
 sweet delays, and in rambles over the long swell- 
 ing moors seemingly grand and boundless as the 
 sea, purple with crackling knee-deep heath in 
 whose fragrance the winds were smothered, and 
 broken only by some white thorn-bush bearing 
 here and there a cluster of last year's scarlet 
 haws, and with eagles screaming far above them. 
 Nor is it to be doubted by whom he passed most 
 pleasantly. 
 In Miriam's thoughts Sir Rohan had become as- 
 
176 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 sociated with all the beautiful scenes in whose 
 enjoyment they had been companions. He had 
 lost, to her view, the air which at first character- 
 ized him, or familiarity had made it more agree- 
 able. There were a thousand points, with which 
 St. Denys did not sympathize, that united them ; 
 and there was moreover a kind of magnetic attrac- 
 tion about Sir Eohan, that with his courtesy and 
 natural powers effected more for him than any 
 youth or beauty. 
 
 And as for him ? He found Miriam only more 
 lovely than the loveliest margin with which he 
 could surround her. Delightedly he listened to the 
 bird-like voice ; her slightest touch thrilled him ; 
 bitterly his old pain and despair threatened to fall 
 should she ever leave him. Most men, when 
 numbering his years, are best pleased by that 
 which recalls old reminiscences ; but he, waving 
 those constantly away, was like one who has just 
 found his youth. 
 
 One sunset, as the two gentlemen were stand- 
 ing near the shrubbery, Miriam came running up 
 the fields from the shore, a color blown into her 
 cheeks, and her arms full of sea-weed, reeds, and 
 all manner of marine growth. 
 
THE FOREHEAD OP THE STORM. 177 
 
 " Do but look at them, Sir Rohan ! " she cried. 
 " These blubbers, nettles, what-nots ! They are 
 crimson and purple and dusty with gold. And 
 these corals, fine as fringes, like ragged rainbows. 
 And oh ! these bloody sea-docks. But what is 
 this?" 
 
 " Why, Miriam, you are loaded with that wet 
 stuff," exclaimed St. Denys. 
 
 " A fucus, Miss Miriam," said Sir Kohan, tak- 
 ing it. " The sensitive plant of the sea. It sways 
 to the heat of my hand as if blown across by a 
 breeze." 
 
 "See these sponges, papa. They are the very 
 royalest purple, and fern-shaped," and she plunged 
 among her booty to bring one up. To her chagrin, 
 it had forsaken its rich hues with its element, and 
 was only a yellowish brown. " O my heart ! " 
 she ejaculated, "when I almost drowned myself 
 to get them! And what's the matter with my 
 hands ? They are covered with white blisters ! " 
 
 " It is the vengeance of the nettles." 
 
 " Where they stung me ? The ungrateful things ! 
 I '11 carry them back directly. Into the water you 
 go, every one," and she sped down again to fulfil 
 her menace. 
 
1T8 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " How oddly the sea looks, Sir Rohan ! " she 
 said, as he accompanied her. " It is so covered 
 with a kind of mist. And far out, do you see, a 
 great white line shining like a low cloud, only it 
 keeps changing, now high, now broken, gone, 
 collected again." 
 
 "It is the white forehead of a storm coming 
 over the horizon," said he. " Or to speak less 
 poetically, you see the blore. It is many miles 
 away ; listen, and you will hear the rote. We 
 shall have a Cornish storm soon, and to-night can 
 see the briony without any help from Redruth." 
 
 " These little birds, with their wings stretched 
 on the waves, look like its prophets. How I like 
 such a fresh salt wind ! " 
 
 " It whistles the megrims off one's nerves." 
 
 " And I suppose when we looked at the sea 
 that divine day at Tyntagel this storm was plough- 
 ing along the distance and hurrying to meet us. 
 I must wade out again, clearly. Don't you think 
 I shall catch my death of cold, get pains for 
 my pains, go to school to the rheumatism and 
 learn to compare ache, acher, achest, with the 
 chance of a lot in God's acre ? " she asked, laugh- 
 ing. " All water is damp, you know, but that with 
 
THE FOREHEAD OF THE STORM. 179 
 
 a storm in it must be the dampest kind of 
 water ! " 
 
 " It is too costly an experiment," he returned. 
 " Give your bundle to me, Miss Miriam ; here are 
 some stones upon which I can step, and deposit it 
 for you." 
 
 " And that will sting two pair of hands." 
 
 " Unnecessarily. Let me manage them, and it 
 will soon be done ; " and in a minute more the 
 treasures were afloat, and Miriam had challenged 
 Sir Rohan to a race up the slope. Suddenly she 
 stopped, with her gay laugh broken in ringing, 
 and pointed at a horse waiting near the firs. 
 
 " Don't you know it ? " she asked, with a look 
 of mock dismay. " Who is that with papa ? My 
 hands need some liniment, Sir Rohan, and my 
 eyes too, after seeing him. I shall go to Mrs. 
 Redruth for it, and then I shall go to my room 
 and be altogether too ill to come down again. 
 Good night, Sir Rohan ! " 
 
 He watched her till she disappeared within the 
 casement, and then by another path joined St. 
 Denys and Mr. Arundel. 
 
 The latter, who had, of course, seen Miriam, did 
 not inquire for her, and did not regard Sir Rohan 
 
180 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 with more favorable eyes at her absence. By 
 turns affable and sarcastic, he mingled in the 
 conversation till obtaining its command, when he 
 conducted it to elicit Sir Rohan's peculiarities, 
 causing him to shrink nervously from the scalpel 
 so suddenly busy about him. He remained with 
 them upon the lawn till the great bell of the hall 
 clock tolled ten, when mounting with a parting 
 prophecy of rain, the galloping hoofs of his horse 
 were soon lost in distance. The wind, momently 
 increasing, bent the tall trees heavily when the 
 sound became undistinguishable, and it already 
 blew a gale as they went in. 
 
IX. 
 
 SUNSHINE. 
 
 IN the morning, Miriam found Sir Rohan's 
 promise fulfilled. Torrents lashed the panes, 
 the bowing branches swept the lawn, the wind 
 whistled round and through the house, the 
 gray sky seemed to open and close with gluts 
 of rain, and the great roar of the sea filled the 
 diapason of the tempest. But to Miriam there was 
 a world of sunshine within, and when she met Sir 
 Rohan, himself like one fired with purpose and 
 strength that day, and St. Denys with his unvary- 
 ing equipoise, she could not have been gayer had 
 sunshine reigned without as well. Nevertheless, 
 indoor amusements were not many in that house, 
 and on the third day of the storm Sir Rohan had 
 recourse to a last expedient ; and as Miriam rather 
 shyly proposed it, instantly invited them into the 
 room which she dignified by the name of studio. 
 
 16 
 
182 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 Here, strewn in every position, was a day's delight 
 for her : portfolios of bold drawing ; rustling water- 
 colors, as many and strong, she thought, as the 
 brown leaves of an oak in autumn ; and wonder- 
 ful things, where the artist in experimenting with 
 his tints could not avoid expressing beautiful con- 
 ceits. Leaning against the wall, one upon anoth- 
 er, were strange, half-finished pictures without 
 frames, pitifully dented by their mutual weight ; 
 and here, scattering them around her, Miriam sat 
 upon the floor for their better enjoyment, while 
 St. Denys betook himself to a black-letter chroni- 
 cle, and Sir Rohan stretched a canvas. 
 
 A few, such as an aspen shaking through a 
 south-wind into the likeness of a silvery ghost; 
 the centre of a forest rich in every shade of green, 
 gorgeous with every flower and fruit and plumage 
 multiplied in stagnant pools below, but from 
 whose virid mosses noisome vapors rose, and in 
 whose countless reeds the fiends of plague and ma- 
 laria lurked, a spot fecund with every venom- 
 ous reptile and stinging insect, a spot damned 
 with luxuriance ; or the awful brows of an eclipse 
 brooding over space and stifling the shrinking 
 earth ; or a little chrisom baby stretched stiff and 
 
SUNSHINE. 183 
 
 stark on a yew bough, and watched by a school of 
 wizard eyes ; or yet again, a dread assemblage of 
 the artist's imaginative terrors, flocculent faces, 
 that had stared in his eye, hissed in his ear, 
 flapped in his path, and from whom he could gain 
 no release except by imprisoning them here ; 
 these and other kindred Miriam flung aside, as she 
 would have flung the study of a foot or anything 
 not promising immediate satisfaction. 
 
 Indeed, in every one there was an anomaly, a 
 trait of the artist's individuality, that could only 
 be described by supposing a soul to the picture, 
 expressing, after all, that wherein his pencil failed ; 
 and this expression was always the Ghost, as much 
 as if thrown herself in broad dashes of glimmering 
 color upon the canvas. But in the others, where 
 it was less explicit, Miriam soon found sufficient 
 enjoyment. 
 
 Here was a pearly, crepusculine sky, through 
 which the spirit of the tenderest young crescent 
 held up her lucid vase to catch the earth's light 
 that^ foamed high as the rim of the old moon 
 between its golden horns ; here a white midnight 
 moon rose behind a line of broken columns sur- 
 rounded by tideless lagunas and crowned by an 
 
184 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 albatross taking her glow on the tips of his white 
 drooping wings ; and here a long stretch of green 
 waves washed themselves to froth, and clamored 
 for a falling moon that sunk hastily into their 
 bosom. 
 
 " She has drunk her pearl, this sea," said Mir- 
 iam, " and now for the asp, Sir Rohan." 
 
 " The darkness will bring that soon enough," 
 he responded, quickly. 
 
 " I think you must have experienced a kind of 
 lunacy in painting these three," she said, laugh- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Or found," he murmured half inaudibly, 
 " relief from it." 
 
 " You are moon-mad ! " she exclaimed, taking 
 up another sea-scene, where, in an atmosphere of 
 delicious darkness a yellow waning moon peered 
 half risen over a gloomy tide, and in the light of 
 whose trailing splendor myriad sea-sprites rose in 
 shoals, with twining arms and tossing hair, spring- 
 ing from the spray. 
 
 Soon she turned to others. One, where a 
 mountain brook falling from a ledge, half-way 
 down tore itself to diamond dust out of whose 
 depth looked a face like sunlight, below a wind- 
 
SUNSHINE. 185 
 
 blown scarf of rainbows ; another, a delicate shell, 
 from whose inmost spire protruded a minute and 
 perfect foot lying rosily along the whorl ; a third, 
 where stepping from a colossal lotus, clothed in 
 a white shimmer of raiment, her brow rubescent 
 with lambent lanceolate flames, stood the goddess 
 of the Ganges ; and one whence casting out rays 
 like a shooting star, a rebellious angel plunged 
 headlong over a black vault, known by his shining 
 wake and the fixedness of sad still stars behind. 
 Again, one of the immense yellow-haired Cimbri, 
 nude and brawny, slid gleefully on his shield down 
 the icy glare of an Alp, the hollow of a starlit 
 sky above, and around him frozen boulders fulgent 
 and sparkling in prisms, while beyond the horns 
 of some towering crag a fleshless hand rose, like 
 an apparition, and gathered the night down closer 
 over his young savageness. In another, he had 
 caught all the changes of an endless moor, the 
 shadows of sailing clouds, the warm hues of sky 
 and earth ; and over the rosy edge of one only 
 heath-flower in the luxuriant growth appeared 
 the face of a tiny curious being, who, full of droll 
 amazement, stared at another sleeping in its heart. 
 But all these Miriam piled together, when catch- 
 
 16* 
 
186 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 ing a glimpse of the next, in which were the 
 beginnings of a certain grandeur soon melting 
 into pathos. 
 
 " Sir Rohan," she cried, " what is this ? 
 Where did you see it ? Is it your genius, your 
 daemon, or is it Demogorgon ? " 
 
 " Your ideas are larger than mine, Miss Mir- 
 iam," he replied, glancing indifferently towards it. 
 " No. It is Spring, or Autumn, or something of 
 the kind." 
 
 " But has n't it any precise title ? " 
 
 " You can call it the Nemesis of Spring, if you 
 like." 
 
 Miriam bent over it spell-bound, all her fancy 
 charmed in the long champaign, the golden-green 
 quivering of a near willow, the dull red hollow, 
 the rich violet haze that bathed the level distance, 
 and far, far away, a titanean head and shoulder 
 heaved to sight, a dim brow receding in the light, 
 slanting showers falling from half-closed eyelids, 
 and a watery smile breaking over the sad, grand 
 mouth. 
 
 " Do you like it, Miss Miriam ? " he asked, at 
 length. 
 
 " sir, so much ! " 
 
SUNSHINE. 187 
 
 Will you accept it ?" 
 
 " Sir Rohan ! Truly ? Will you give this price- 
 less thing to me ? " she exclaimed. " Listen papa, 
 
 look ! " and she sprung to his side to display it. 
 " Yes, my dear," he said, absently. " But you 
 
 don't thank Sir Rohan." 
 
 " Thank him ? " she repeated. " I don't know 
 how. To think I can see this always ! Upon my 
 word, I believe I never said * thank you ' in my life, 
 
 it is so awkward now ! It must be very tedious 
 to have thanks." 
 
 " Small fee will answer here," said Sir Rohan. 
 "But now, Miss Miriam, essay the art yourself; " 
 and he placed palette and brushes in her hand, and 
 commenced his instructions which, amidst peals of 
 laughter, she did her best to obey, producing gro- 
 tesque caricatures in design and color, and soon 
 showing him that her customary drawing-lessons 
 had not been wasted, although cultivating no pecu- 
 liar talent. 
 
 " The way to catch God's idea in a landscape, or 
 an architect's in a building, I have heard," said 
 she, " is to look at it with inverted eyes. Now it 's 
 not so easy to turn the world upside down, but 
 for my picture, presto ! it 's done in a minute I " 
 
188 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 and she twirled the work round in her fingers till 
 whether it were saint or scaramouch one could 
 not tell. 
 
 " What are you two doing ? " asked St. Denys, 
 looking up. 
 
 " Canvassing matters of art," she answered, 
 gayly. 
 
 " I should think you were canvassing votes, by 
 the noise," he rejoined. 
 
 " Do you catch any idea ? " she asked, inclining 
 her head critically on one side and the other. " I 
 don't. I am afraid I 've left it out." 
 
 " How is it, Sir Rohan," she continued, after a 
 pause, " that all your female faces, when you put 
 anything of the weird into their construction, re- 
 semble me ? though one could not be more mat- 
 ter-of-fact flesh and blood than I. They were 
 painted, too, before you saw me. It must have 
 been a prescience of my coming." 
 
 Sir Rohan started ; did they ? But he could 
 not convince himself that such was the case, and 
 guided her pencil along a difficult curve before 
 replying, 
 
 " It would n't be singular if when Heaven is to 
 come into my house, I receive some premonition." 
 
SUNSHINE. 189 
 
 Miriam bowed with the coupee of a minuet, 
 palette and maulstick waving in either hand, and 
 glancing over her brows at him, with eyes full of 
 merriment. 
 
 It was not long, however, before she deserted 
 her new employment, to look at the blossoms 
 snowing the grass ; and after lunch some needle- 
 work was found, in which she busied herself, 
 while St. Denys read aloud from his book, with an 
 oral commentary. 
 
 Listening as long as she could, she exclaimed at 
 last, " papa ! The man who wrote that chroni- 
 cle was afflicted with chronical dulness." 
 
 " For shame, Miriam ! " 
 
 " And what a dirty book ! " she resumed. " As 
 yellow as a war-whoop, and the great wry letters 
 making eyes at each other ! I wonder it don't use 
 its cleansing power inwardly, it 's such a soporific. 
 Where 's the use now, for a book of old sinners 
 with new names, as full of scandal as a teacup? 
 It must have been written by a confrere in wicked- 
 ness, who scampered through his life while he 
 could, and when he was prevented, made his book 
 racy by imagining all the course he should like to 
 run. See how indifferently he huddled kings and 
 
190 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 queens and crimes together, like flies in a swarm. 
 If he had any sconce, he might have emblazoned 
 other things than royal peccadilloes and saintly 
 impostures.'' 
 
 " Apollo pastured the flocks of Admetus," said 
 Sir Rohan. 
 
 " Long ago. Pasturage past your comprehen- 
 sion. Really, Sir Rohan, do you care a rush for 
 what papa reads ? I don't believe a word of it ; it 
 is just inef-fable, and not to be re-lied upon ; like a 
 bee in a blossom, all a humbug." 
 
 " You '11 burn your fingers, you Will with the 
 Wisp ! Language and powder are dangerous play- 
 things." 
 
 " Both can blow one up ? Well, papa, proceed 
 with your augury, though some of us, Sir Rohan 
 and I, may be unwilling to endure such a som- 
 nolent procedure. There, don't fear any more in- 
 terference ; that was a cobbler's armorial shield, 
 my last and my all." 
 
 " Miriam, I am ashamed of you." 
 
 " Nonsense ! As if you would n't have said it 
 yourself, if you had thought ! " she retorted. 
 
 Indeed, far from interesting to the child who 
 lived in the present was this archaeological gossip ; 
 
SUNSHINE. 191 
 
 and after the preceding feu de joie and one or 
 two vain efforts at wakefulness, the voice lulled 
 her into a dream, nor did she wake till dinner was 
 announced, when Sir Rohan had sketched her 
 sleeping face for that of a Semele. 
 
 As the night fell, they all gathered round the 
 fire in the drawing-room, (which was now quite 
 repaired,) and Miriam, sitting on a low cushion 
 between the others, bent forward, her face illumi- 
 nated by the blaze, and recited the savage tales 
 she had heard from the Pifferari at Rome, till the 
 blood forsook her cheek. 
 
 " You have succeeded in thoroughly frightening 
 one, at least, Miriam," said St. Deiiys. 
 
 " And another too, papa, I dare say, only you 
 must be desperate and conceal it. I should n't 
 like to have felt so, the first night we came, 
 though." 
 
 " And what makes the difference ? " 
 
 " Why, I feel almost as much at home here as at 
 the Castle, now." 
 
 " That speaks well for your hospitality, Rohan." 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Miriam." 
 
 " I should be better satisfied if you, sir, looked 
 slightly perturbed, or pallid. But I solace myself 
 
192 
 
 uy thinking 110 brigand of the Apennines would 
 succeed where I fail, since you are so bold to live 
 here alone. Marc Arundel tells a good story, 
 though ; he '11 im-pale you on its point ! " and 
 quickly making her adieux, her feet were heard 
 scampering along the hall, as if expecting each 
 flag to sink under them before gaining another. 
 
 But Sir Rohan might well afford to laugh at 
 such machinery for terror, when, in the lack of 
 any other excitement, he could always fall back 
 on his Ghost. 
 
X. 
 
 MR. ARUNDEL. 
 
 THUS the week of storm passed, stranding them 
 again on sunny weather. And with the first 
 clear day came Marc Arundel, a brace of birds, 
 shot on the way, hanging across his saddle-bow. 
 
 " You are a summer friend, Mr. Arundel," said 
 Miriam, in greeting. " Rain don't agree with you, 
 melts you. Are you sugar, or salt ? " 
 
 " Both, as one bites. To the friend sugar, and 
 you have not yet tasted the salt." 
 
 " Vastly polite. Now go and threaten papa with 
 it, and let us begin sparring comfortably all round." 
 " You began it yourself, Miriam." 
 " And you follow your flugelman admirably." 
 " I've heard of thunder's souring cream. Crisp 
 as a curd, this morning. Though how could one 
 keep good-humored in such gloomy quarters, and 
 with a man so possessed as Belvidere ? " 
 
 17 u 
 
104 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " These are not gloomy quarters, and Sir Rohan 
 is not possessed," said Miriam, judicially. 
 
 " Ah ! Is it so ? What a sweet air ! You 
 don't inquire for my health, but I never felt so 
 well as on this fine day. I 've been longing to see 
 a relative, these twenty-four hours, to learn if the 
 pulse of the whole race is as even as mine. Where 
 is my cousin ? Speaking of a meter, the other 
 day, this of blood is about the best." 
 
 " Your cousin in the third remove is there," 
 replied Miriam, slightly vexed, " coming with our 
 friend." 
 
 " My friend in the thirtieth remove, counting 
 each day since I knew him as a further distance," 
 Arundel said, with a sneer. 
 
 " Sir Rohan has n't much patience, I suspect ; 
 and you had best conduct yourself reasonably," 
 she added. 
 
 " Or he '11 pitch me, neck and heels, out 
 doors ? " 
 
 A look of contempt curled Miriam's lip. " Your 
 phraseology is choice," she said. 
 
 "That's as I please." 
 
 " How can you hope even peace should remain 
 between us, when you treat me with such disre- 
 spect ! " 
 
ME. AEUNDEL. 195 
 
 " I would treat you like a princess, if you 
 allowed. A man should have the patience of Job, 
 to see such a prize carried off under his nose. Let 
 me tell you, my dear " 
 
 " You are too familiar," she interposed, moving 
 off with a flashing eye. 
 
 " Fiddle-de-dee ! By the sun, moon, and seven 
 stars, Miriam, if he show his airs to me " 
 
 " Don Braggadocio ! " she ejaculated over her 
 shoulder. 
 
 " But honestly, Miriam " 
 
 " I, certainly, am no relative of yours," she ut- 
 tered, turning upon him ; " and let me say, in 
 language most intelligible to you, Mr. Arundel, 
 that I always use a handle with your name." 
 
 " Ten thousand pardons ! Miss Miss 
 
 What ? " he asked derisively. 
 
 Miriam had half the mind to strike him ; but she 
 had drawn it upon herself, and walked away with- 
 out another word. 
 
 " Silenced you ! " said Arundel, as he gazed 
 after her. " And a woman 's easily conciliated. 
 It's your turn and your heyday, mine will 
 come ! " with which he advanced to pay his com- 
 pliments to St. Denys and his host. 
 
196 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " Now we have you in Cornwall, St. Denys," 
 said he, " hope you '11 not leave us till I can take 
 you to our assizes and other lions." 
 
 " I thank you, Marc," St. Denys said, " but Sir 
 Rohan and Mr. Redruth have already shown us 
 everything of interest." 
 
 " I regret not knowing your arrival sooner. 
 Have n't thought to ask how you came." 
 
 " By a packet from Brittany, in at Falmouth." 
 
 " Bringing your coach, I suppose." 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Yes, you travel at your ease. I 've not been 
 long in the country myself, though. Positively, I 
 feel hurt that you should have come without ad- 
 vising me." 
 
 " We thought you behind us, on the continent." 
 
 " And took that opportunity to see Cornwall ? 
 Kind of you ! " 
 
 " No. We designed taking ship for Torquay, 
 but this offered first. We did not come as sight- 
 seers. What do you find to amuse you here ? " 
 
 " 0, I don't live on my expectations, St. 
 Denys," he said lightly. " There 's my place to 
 be looked after, and being bred to the law, why, 
 I now and then find a case." 
 
MR. ARUNDEL. 197 
 
 " You like the bar ? " Sir Rohan asked. 
 
 " Why, no, not particularly. Though there 's 
 something like a zest to ferreting facts, especially 
 when I have one such as yourself in the witness- 
 box." 
 
 Sir Eohan was silent, but St. Denys said, " Ah ? 
 how 's that ? I scarcely understand " 
 
 " I mean a reticent fellow, who has plenty to 
 say, but don't mean to speak, and behind whom 
 there lies a most excellent case." 
 
 " And what case has Belvidere ? " 
 
 " Sir Rohan ? 0, I referred to his reticence, 
 not to anything else, I assure you. There are 
 few of so blameless a past as his, to endure such a 
 test," he replied, bowing to the one of whom he 
 spoke ; and Sir Rohan bowed in return, though 
 well knowing that Marc Arundel never would 
 have said it had he thought it true, impudent 
 in either event. 
 
 " I have heard, through my steward," he an- 
 swered, " that Mr. Arundel meets with great suc- 
 cess." 
 
 " Yes," said Marc, tapping his boot with his 
 riding-whip, " I flatter myself there are few men 
 in the circuit with a longer docket. I can re- 
 17* 
 
198 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 fer to the antecedents of every family iii the 
 county." 
 
 " You are industrious, Mr. Arundel," said Sir 
 Rohan, half scornfully. 
 
 " And fortunate. I never met with a failure in 
 my life." 
 
 " Never ? " 
 
 " Not completely ; none irrecoverable. I fancy 
 a thorough-bred lawyer enjoys himself like a good 
 setter, once on the scent, and heaven and earth 
 can't stop him. How long do you stay, St. 
 Denys ? " 
 
 " We go to-day." 
 
 " Then I am in time to see you off. Another 
 good fortune, Sir Rohan. You will find a great 
 vacuum in your house, sir, after the presence of so 
 lively a child as my pretty cousin." 
 
 " I expect to," was the brief response. 
 
 " But, probably, to a person of your habits, one 
 easily filled," he said, watching him as he spoke. 
 
 " Then you would find it so in my place ? " 
 
 " How can I tell ? " replied Arundel. " Miss 
 Miriam never conferred so much honor on me ! " 
 And with this thrust his manner told the wish to 
 ascertain how much honor she had conferred upon 
 
ME. ARUNDEL. 199 
 
 the other ; but he obtained 110 satisfaction from 
 the face over which Sir Rohan was, for once, 
 master. 
 
 In a short time Miriam returned, equipped for 
 her departure, and Sir Rohan left the two for her 
 side. 
 
 " You do not ask me to the Castle, St. Denys," 
 said Arundel, as they stood alone. 
 
 "No, Marc. It is plainly impossible." 
 
 " Well, well, I '11 overlook it, since I know 
 you 're too fond of me to be so rude intention- 
 ally." 
 
 " When you cease your persecutions " 
 
 " I could n't go now, indeed, should you press 
 it ; I have some work that must be done before I 
 see Miss Miriam again. Till then, I do cease 
 these persecutions. A fine suit, St. Denys, it 
 might interest you. A large amount of property 
 may change hands by its means, and I 'm not cer- 
 tain but it promises more." 
 
 " I hope you will meet with success, Marc, in 
 all points where success is right." 
 
 " That implies a doubt of me," he returned, 
 looking toward Miriam, who stood by Sir Rohan 
 with the painting which he had given her, and 
 which he was now wrapping. 
 
200 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " Is it possible that any year comes to you so 
 sadly as that ? " she was asking him. " When 
 you visit Kent we will show you happier seasons." 
 
 " All seasons will be prodigal of happiness," he 
 said, in a lower key, " where you are, child ! " 
 Yet by a singular self-contradiction, as she met 
 his glance with one so unconsciously pleased and 
 happy, though it gave him a quick joy, he turned 
 away with a sigh. 
 
 " The carriage waits, Sir Rohan," said Redruth, 
 at the door. 
 
 Sir Rohan did not stir till he had finished wrap- 
 ping the bundle, when he gave it to Miriam, and 
 gave her also a glance into which he concentrated 
 all that other men could say ; then, taking her 
 hand, led her down and placed her in the coach, 
 without trusting himself to speak farewell. The 
 luggage was already on, the servants, who had at 
 first been left at the inn but were subsequently 
 domesticated here, disposed of, and St. Denys only 
 pausing on the step, to repeat urgently his desire 
 of seeing him very soon again ; while they both 
 gave Redruth a hearty invitation to visit Kent 
 with his master. Arundel wished him good 
 morning, and mounted. Again the handsome face 
 
ME. ARUNDEL. 201 
 
 flashed on him from the chariot, but this time 
 with how sweet a smile, and they were gone. 
 
 He went back into the house alone, and tak- 
 ing a book, attempted to lose himself; the words 
 swam on the page, conveying nothing ; he threw 
 it down, and ranged from room to room, seeking 
 what was not to be found. In the heat of advan- 
 cing day, all household bustle had ceased. Silence 
 reigned throughout. No more light steps, or 
 jocund laughter, no friend for speaking, no 
 child for loving. Child ? He knew he did not 
 regard her in that light ; he knew that, fresh and 
 buoyant as she was, no presence more womanly 
 had ever crossed his path, that the thing she 
 had touched could not be graced by others, the 
 sunlight that fell round her was sacred. But for 
 loving ? Yes, he answered himself ; with his whole 
 heart and soul. And how much was that ? 
 
 When they had entered his house not slightly 
 unwelcome it had been St. Denys for whom he 
 cared, to whom he turned ; but long before they 
 left, Miriam had held his thoughts day and night. 
 What solace had they brought him, what peace, 
 brief and blissful, how much had been crowded 
 into these five weeks ! He remembered Miriam at 
 
 
202 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 one time, dancing and singing in his path, the im- 
 personation of a spicy summer ; and at another, 
 half aware of some under-current of feeling, 
 adorned by that same gentle dignity in whose 
 guise he had first seen her. Who would sing to 
 him now, who, when the dreadful night fell, 
 would charm its terrors away, who, in any stress 
 of stormy weather, would fill the room with light ? 
 Who was there to teach him that he lived ? Who 
 for him to make happy ? Alas ! they were gone, 
 and had torn delight with them. 
 
 The house was more lonely than a desert ; 
 though swarming with memories, only a desola- 
 tion It was unendurable, he would leave it, he 
 would go to Kent as they wished. Why did all 
 wretchedness choose him for its victim ? The 
 question answered itself, stinging him to elder 
 remembrances. Had he not deserved it ? and so 
 was it not inevitable ? This was only the old stain 
 of his existence spreading over new spaces. 
 Should he cover Miriam with it ? She was young 
 and cheerful now, he thought ; how long would 
 she remain so with him? Could he carve her 
 wrinkles and inspire her sighs ? Youth had many 
 salves for sorrow ; even if she loved him now, 
 
MR. ARUNDEL. 203 
 
 absence would attenuate and break the connect- 
 ing thread ; the pain would pass into forgetful- 
 ness. Truer love was in keeping away from her. 
 No matter what he suffered in his loneliness, he 
 would not go to Kent. 
 
 A good resolution, but will he keep it ? We 
 shall see. Until this time, I think, Sir Rohan, has 
 never performed a thoroughly noble action. 
 
 All nature had sprung up from the tempest into 
 warmer life. Home was insupportable ; Sir Ro- 
 han took his hat to go out and see what fresh 
 store of coloring, what new gleanings of beauty, 
 might be in the woods. Had he gone with that 
 avowed design, I doubt would he have brought 
 home anything ; for the gold, unhesitatingly put 
 at a comrade's disposal, who displays to the pro- 
 fessed pickpocket ? Nor are these secrets to be 
 had for the asking. It is the bosom friend who 
 wanders with us into our retirement, abounding 
 in quiet sympathy and love, whose vicinity dis- 
 turbs no vibration, whose slightest touch is harmo- 
 nious, fliat gathers them. But since Sir Rohan 
 always returned richer than he went, the intention 
 of his walk was like a draft at sight. 
 
 Driven rapidly at first by his mental vehemence, 
 
204 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 he had heedlessly traversed a league of the foot- 
 path, when he found himself all at once within a 
 rod of the highway, which, according to the per- 
 verse tendencies of its class, preferred winding 
 round the base of the hill some eight or ten miles, 
 to taking the direct cut by which Sir Rohan got 
 there before it. It immediately occurred to him, 
 that proceeding slowly over the bad-conditioned 
 road, and pausing to take leave of Arundel where 
 his more lonely way diverged, St. Denys had not 
 yet passed this spot, and he concluded to await 
 him. So still was Sir Rohan, so gentle all his 
 motions when m the woods, that the wild things 
 regarded him as one of themselves, and his ap- 
 proach was inaudible to a man who stood half con- 
 cealed by the crusted trunk of a tree. This man 
 wore a spur, which accounted for the horse Sir 
 Rohan had passed beyond, some game lay at his 
 feet, and he was reloading ; an occupation left, as 
 the sound of distant wheels caught his ear. 
 
 He turned sharply and peered through the in- 
 terspaces, as if satisfying himself of the identity of 
 some object. A horrid suggestion answered by a 
 horrid resolve, like lightning made in the south 
 and reflected again at the uttermost parts of the 
 

 ME. AEUNDEL. 205 
 
 heavens, writhed across his lips and brow. For a 
 moment a visible agitation chained him with a 
 shiver ; then glancing round as if a fiend had whis- 
 pered, he deliberately finished charging the gun, 
 which, as the sound grew more distinct, he cocked 
 and raised to his shoulder, displaying, with every 
 vein knotted, the flushed face of Marc Arundel. 
 
 Intuitively, knowledge of the other's intentions 
 seized Sir Rohan, but interference was as impossi- 
 ble as if he were changed to marble. The coach 
 drew nearer, the rolling wheels spun through the 
 open trees, and puffs of dust blew across the 
 hedge. They had passed him, they were passing 
 Arundel. Not so. There was at this point in 
 the road a gully worn by the brook that babbled 
 by them, and over which a rustic bridge was 
 built ; a plank of this had been displaced, and 
 the coach stopped while some one alighted to 
 readjust it. 
 
 The gun trembled at ArundePs shoulder; the 
 aim was not satisfactory ; he lowered it, and bend- 
 ing on one knee, again settled it, again unaccount- 
 ably suffered the muzzle to fall. Some strange 
 hesitation seemed to restrain him at the very mo- 
 ment he had awaited, or there may yet have been 
 
 18 
 
206 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 too much tremor to trust death upon. Was it 
 Miriam or St. Denys whose fate lay in that ball, 
 that hesitation ? Not Miriam, certainly. 
 
 Slowly the arm rose again, slowly fell. They 
 might escape in his vacillation. How much he 
 must desire what such effort was unable to ac- 
 complish ! Lusting after murder, too dastardly 
 to snatch it. Faugh ! It was in cold blood. 
 What impetuosity, what passion, of one kind or 
 another, was there in this ? Amiidel was evi- 
 dently a man whose whole moral sense and life 
 were hardly higher than the level of this moment, 
 if, indeed, this were not higher than they. Of the 
 two, ghost-ridden and soiled as he was, Sir Rohan 
 felt himself the better stature. 
 
 The plank was replaced, the coachman had again 
 climbed to his seat, and St. Denys was entering 
 while the footman held the door. What suspense 
 bound the moment ! Once more Arundel drew 
 the bead in sight. The gun was steady now, the 
 hand sure, but the face white with fear and horror 
 of the deed ; perhaps his heart would yet fail him. 
 He wavered an instant longer, then whether for 
 retreat or advance, who can tell ? planted his foot 
 more firmly among the running vines. Torn by 
 
MR. ABUNDEL. 207 
 
 the spur, one snapped and sent the foot slipping 
 over a round pebble. Something, he never knew 
 what, struck up the barrel, he lost his balance and 
 fell forward ; there was a flash, a report, and with- 
 out his agency it had gone off. In the cloud of 
 smoke, Sir Rohan withdrew again to his former 
 position, content with having broken his spell, baf- 
 fled the design, and seeing the ball pass over St. 
 Deiiys's head, for all this had taken place in an 
 instant. 
 
 Arundel's decision was made as quickly. He 
 wiped away the flowing perspiration, seized his 
 birds, ran down, leaping lightly over the hedge, 
 and accosted the startled travellers. 
 
 " There 's nothing like being a good marks- 
 man," he cried, tossing the game into the boot. 
 " Dress them at the first inn. You '11 have little 
 else, I can tell you ! Good morning again," and 
 he sprung back. While Sir Rohan, as if he him- 
 self had been the guilty person, retired noiselessly, 
 and crept away without a word. , In offering 
 Arimdel a week's shooting on his preserves r he 
 had never dreamed of placing such quarry at his 
 disposal. He saw the coach rolling on, they were 
 safe, and he dismissed the matter. 
 
208 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 Absorbed at last in the pleasure of the noonday 
 woods, he advanced, searching the eyes of a tiny 
 fluttering partridge caught and loosed again, 
 watching the tawny gilding of some newt who 
 walked the water with the dignity of a doge, or 
 ruffling wild swans in their sedgy nests by his in- 
 vading steps. The half-ripe bunches of the roan- 
 trees hung like oranges amid their shivering 
 leaves; the wild grapes were beginning to red- 
 den ; the indolent birds sat silent on the boughs, 
 hardly distinguishable ; the trumpet bignonias 
 leaped from tree to tree, scarlet in exuberant 
 beauty. Sir Rohan with determination banished 
 everything but the present enjoyment, sensuous 
 though it might be, from his mind ; and examin- 
 ing the inflorescent galls of the blueberry, downy 
 as if sprinkled with fresh-fallen snow, and brilliant 
 with stains of carmine and cream, scraping the 
 lichen from stones, the moss from trees, following 
 the sparhawks wheeling above in open spots, or 
 the little serpents twisting like tendrils or green 
 sunbeams among the eggs of a deserted nest, he 
 still extended his walk, meeting no one but some 
 solitary peat-digger splashing through regions of 
 shaking heath ; nor did he return till the sun had 
 
MR. ARUNDEL. 209 
 
 passed the meridian, and lie had gathered marvel- 
 lous hints for his painting. 
 
 The servants had not known of his aosenee, 
 and as he entered the shrubbery a familiar horse, 
 tied there, met his eye again ; and passing the 
 great cellar-doors, he observed that they were 
 open. Somewhat surprised, he paused a mo- 
 ment to glance in, without impeding the broad 
 stream of sunshine that flooded it with mellow 
 warmth. 
 
 A cask had been drawn into this light, on its 
 head were two or three flasks, of choice seals; 
 and by it, at opposite sides, sat Redruth and the 
 ubiquitous Marc Arundel. The former, with 
 flushed face and fiery features, holding up his 
 long glass to catch a sparkle in its crimson depth, 
 and speaking with animation. The latter, looking 
 like the man's familiar, with a cool perseverance 
 about him, and his glass untouched. It was evi- 
 dent that the garrulous Redruth had drank too 
 freely, and that Arundel was profiting by his 
 frailty. 
 
 " The blood of summer, Mr. Arundel," he said, 
 but half intelligibly. " Are rubies so red ? " 
 
 " Ah ! Rare wine indeed, rarely kept. But as 
 
 13* N 
 
210 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 you were saying, sir, your young master " Sir 
 Rohan heard replied. 
 
 " Had been gone not a day from the I mean 
 not a year from the day he and the young lady 
 came," resumed Redruth, " when one dripping 
 wet night, looking as he had been dragged through 
 a city, he came back without any warning." 
 
 "And alone, as you said. But did n't stay 
 long ? " 
 
 " Did n't stay long, you asked ? " he replied fee- 
 bly. " No, he left just as suddenly, in a week's 
 time or less, and seemed wild and stunned, and 
 then restless and uneasy, as if expecting some- 
 thing ; and all in a hurry flew to the wars, and 
 did n't come home again for ten years or so." 
 
 Sir Rohan's first purpose had been to pass with- 
 out interruption, the next to confound such inso- 
 lence by his entrance ; but he could not endure to 
 meet what he felt must be the man's consterna- 
 tion, and would have proceeded on his way had 
 not their words attracted him as he lingered in 
 doubt. How much Redruth, under the influence 
 of his potations, had told, how much of his past 
 life Redruth was able to tell, he did not know. 
 It could be no great amount, he thought. 
 
ME. ARUNDEL. 211 
 
 " And after he went, you received this singular 
 message. Repeat it, Mr. Redruth." 
 
 " Singular message ? why, sir, you J ve no mem- 
 ory at all!" 
 
 " True. But you 've a most extraordinary one. 
 Enough for two. A wonderful memory." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! Thankee, sir. Fill your glass, Mr. 
 Arundel ? Clear juice ! " 
 
 " And this message ? " 
 
 " ! A tramper brought it to me from an 
 old woman in one of the east counties, he said ; 
 to tell my master that she would n't disgrace the 
 memory of her grandchild by hanging him, but 
 there were them as lived by Ronald's Tower that 
 could." 
 
 "Ronald's Tower? That's his place in the 
 north, I think. And why didn't you give him 
 this message ? " 
 
 " Why did n't I give him this message, why 
 did n't I give him this message ? " reiterated Red- 
 ruth thickly, endeavoring to gather the import of 
 the words through a vague sense of danger. " Try 
 another bottle, sir message ! I may 
 have thought it was only some spiteful person's 
 impudence," he said, speaking as though his mouth 
 
212 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 were full, and makin much effort to articulate ; 
 " or maybe I was afraid. I don't clearly remem- 
 ber, sir, just now. It 's a dreadful warm day ! " 
 
 " And before that ? " queried Arundel. 
 
 " Before that ? Who told you anything about 
 before that ? " exclaimed his vis-d-vis, with the 
 sudden pugnacity of another glass. " I should like 
 to know what for are you round prying into your 
 neighbor's affairs. My master 's a good master, 
 sir, and minds his own business, which is more 
 
 than all masters do ! And as for his Miss, 
 
 what 's that to you ? you " 
 
 But here the impetus failed him; he looked 
 round fearfully, then vacantly, and dropping his 
 head upon the cask, burst into maudlin tears. 
 
 Arundel rose to go, and as he turned saw Sir 
 Rohan standing gravely in the doorway. 
 
 " I am concerned, Mr. Arundel," said the latter, 
 stepping down, " that in my absence you should 
 be obliged to seek refreshment in my cellars, and 
 waste your conversation on servants. Let me beg 
 you to finish your repast in the dining-room." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. No occasion for concern. 
 Not this morning," said the other, buttoning his 
 coat coolly, as he recovered from a temporary 
 abashment. 
 
MR. AEUNDEL. 213 
 
 " You did n't proceed so far as you intended," 
 Sir Rohan remarked, viewing him quietly. 
 
 " 0, quite ! And remembering that Mr. Red- 
 ruth was witness in one of my suits, returned, and 
 found him here." 
 
 " You lie, sir ! " exclaimed Sir Rohan, pale 
 with rage, and kindling at the spark. 
 
 " Where did I find him, then ? " 
 
 " You lie, you coward ! Must I repeat it ? 
 That 's not what you came for ! But there 's 
 powder and ball above, and you don't go home 
 without them ! " 
 
 " Not I, sir," answered Arundel, who had too 
 precious a booty to be shot down for it. "I 've 
 no dispute with you, sir. We 're quits, certainly, 
 if your eaves-dropping " 
 
 Sir Rohan seized an empty flask to break upon 
 him ; his own lips were blue, his cheeks bloodless, 
 nostrils quivering, eye flashing, he had undergone 
 a complete metamorphosis. But the other, cower- 
 ing beneath and avoiding the blow, sprung past 
 him from the cellar, when, quickly reaching his 
 horse, he vaulted into the saddle and dashed 
 away. 
 
 Sir Rohan walked toward Redruth. Some bold 
 
214 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 vengeance swept through his mind ; but he was 
 not so young as once, and now, after a delay, he 
 clinched the old man's shoulder, and caused him 
 to raise his head and turn his stupefied gaze on 
 him. 
 
 " Redruth ! " he said, between his set teeth, 
 " if you wish to live an hour from that time, never 
 let my name be in your thoughts or on your lips 
 again when speaking to a third person ! " And 
 dropping the nerveless shoulder, he left the place 
 as he had entered, sought the hall-door, and 
 mounted to his painting-room. 
 
XI. 
 
 WORK. 
 
 SIR, ROHAN, recalling the occurrences concern- 
 ing which Redruth had been cajoled into im- 
 parting all he knew, could not discover that that 
 had been much, or that Arundel could in any way 
 use it to his disadvantage. He had himself 
 learned one new fact, that of the message ; but 
 the old woman referred to could have spoken 
 only on surmise, he reflected, if there were any 
 such person at all, which he doubted ; and con- 
 sidering the affair of no further importance he 
 dropped it, and once more recommenced work. 
 
 There had grown to be something painful about 
 this picture now, as though it were a thing long 
 held in suspense and reproaching him. He had 
 neglected it lately, and had only with difficulty 
 prevented Miriam from raising its veil, for by 
 some instinct he could not suffer her to look upon 
 
216 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 it ; and he had found that the spirit that fed his 
 pencil wavered, as if invariably subject to some 
 antagonistic attraction. Now again constantly as 
 ever he employed himself, the lark not earlier, 
 the glowworm scarcely later. The last brief weeks 
 had infused a healthier sense, and he hoped to 
 realize it in his performance. 
 
 Other weeks sped by, and a few more would 
 complete it. What should he do then, he one day 
 thought ; but resolved to let that time decide for 
 itself. The memory of Miriam he tried to banish ; 
 but as well hold the wind from blowing. She 
 asserted herself as firmly in his mind as the Ghost 
 of yore ; yet he clung to his purpose resolutely, 
 nevertheless. 
 
 Working, as before, when the light grew dim, 
 again he saw fine points of white lustre pass from 
 his brush and diffuse themselves beneath it. In 
 the mornings, frequently, something like a mist 
 seemed to cover the surface, which clearing away 
 at his approach, left a darker atmosphere beneath, 
 emitting faint coruscations till sucked up by the 
 canvas. And as he drew nearer conclusion, every 
 night, he thought, tenuious balls of fire shot from 
 the spot on the lawn where he had seen Miriam 
 
WORK. 217 
 
 crowned with azalias, into his painting. Far from 
 ascribing these things to his Ghost, as once he 
 would have done, he believed them to be owing to 
 the electric and miasmatic agencies of the place, 
 and planned a new home for the future, in his 
 fancy, should she leave him longer in this appar- 
 ent freedom. 
 
 Now he ventured to add some last tint to the 
 eyes ; what wonder if Miriam's had escaped from 
 his heart to the work, brighter and larger than the 
 truth, and gathering life, as it were, at every trace 
 of his pencil ? The air rustled about him there 
 before his easel with low sibilatioiis, even the dark- 
 ness, as he lay in the room with it, put out an 
 arm toward it, and his idle pencil glowed like the 
 finger that wrote mene, mene, on the wall. A slow 
 infiltration of some unknown chemistry seemed in 
 process, a dangerous alchemy transmuting all 
 he did with its own gloss, and holding his latest 
 stroke in flux, till at turn of tide a hand how 
 dim and weak, like the ghost of a ghost took 
 shape, and flitted with mysterious falterings round 
 pencil, palette, and picture. It was his Ghost, he 
 knew, essaying to come back and add her few 
 dreadful touches ; but what power she had met 
 
 19 
 
218 
 
 superior to diminish and dissipate her influence, 
 he could not imagine, nor why that which had so 
 often mastered him should now, at his recogni- 
 tion, retreat round the easel and vanish into a 
 hostile gloom. 
 
 But at length there came a morning at the 
 close of summer, when he believed nothing was 
 left to do, and some such rejoicing exclama- 
 tion may have passed his lips. For simultane- 
 ously, all the air of the room seemed seized by a 
 strong throe, swelling, through sharp and tremu- 
 lous palpitations, as if bursting with unseen ful- 
 ness, till it shivered in a quick rebound, and a 
 long-drawn sigh of exquisite relief died away into 
 silence. It was finished. 
 
 Sir Rohan swept aside his implements, and 
 determined not to see it again immediately, that 
 coming the next time with an eye grown some- 
 what unfamiliar, any remaining defect might strike 
 him more obviously ; and although a feeble af- 
 finity still drew him back, he resisted, and left 
 the work alone. 
 
 In the drawing-room Sir Rohan found every- 
 thing nearly as it had been left, for all the ser- 
 vants had not yet been dismissed, and Nell and 
 
WORK. 219 
 
 Nan, Mrs. Redruth's maids, contented themselves 
 by keeping the rooms in order, without interfering 
 with their arrangements. Here was the book as 
 St. Denys had laid it down, there the little lace- 
 wrought handkerchief that Miriam's careless wont 
 had left in a crumpled heap on the clavichord, 
 and still withering in their vase from which all 
 the water had long evaporated, were the stems of 
 those flowers she had gathered on the morning of 
 her departure. But the charm that had animated 
 the whole place was gone, all things were 
 crammed with life only because of Miriam. The 
 first respite he had enjoyed from the misery of 
 nearly twenty years she, he fancied, had pro- 
 duced ; and questioning how those few weeks 
 should be capable of such effects, he saw them as 
 the point throwing all his past life into perspec- 
 tive. The cloud no longer overshadowed him ; 
 lie had passed out from it, he believed, and Mir- 
 iam, in her youth and beauty, was the first to 
 meet him. Should he therefore sacrifice her ? 
 But if he suffered pain then, was it happiness that 
 this loneliness gave him ? Once, he knew, he 
 could have imagined no greater height of bliss 
 than to be free of the Ghost, Less agonizing than 
 
220 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 the Ghost, but hardly less bitter, he felt this re- 
 nunciation of love to be ; and he longed to see 
 her again, as the watcher longs for morning. He 
 never asked if he were pampering a fond vanity, 
 for it seemed as natural that Miriam should love 
 him, once known, as that she should command 
 the love of all others. But he repressed the 
 aching at his heart, and dangerously resolved 
 again to cherish the thought of her in dis- 
 tance, to let her memory sweeten long wakeful 
 nights and lighten dim days, to worship her, in 
 short, without a word, in a real self-abnegation, 
 free from all hope of reward. Was it not more 
 blessedness to love than to be loved ? Surely love, 
 so used, crowned and glorified itself. But it was 
 in his fancy, not in himself. Perchance, had he 
 kept his vow, the Ghost had kept her truce. Ebn 
 Thaher reasoned, says the old Arabian tale, but 
 Aboulhassan loved. 
 
 He had received a letter from St. Denys an- 
 nouncing their safe arrival, which he always car- 
 ried about him, for a postscript had been added 
 over Miriam's scrawling signature. Which docu- 
 ment we give below, having taken the liberty to 
 spice it with punctuation and capitals, the thing 
 
WORK. 221 
 
 being none the less hearty because she had 
 omitted that ceremony. 
 
 "I was so glad to be at home again," it ran, 
 " that I never thought how sorry I should be, 
 directly, to have left you. But we miss you so 
 very much, Sir Rohan, that you must come 
 immediately, and not misuse us." 
 
 This he had not answered, yet something of her 
 later presence seemed haunting it, and as he paced 
 the room he laid it for an instant by the handker- 
 chief. 
 
 A little urchin whom Miriam, with kisses 
 and sugar-plums, had frequently seduced from one 
 of the cottages, with whom he had seen her frol- 
 icking in the grass, and whom, bending towards 
 him with the gentlest caress and merriest smile, 
 he had seen her leading over the lawn now 
 came with abundant daisies clutched in both 
 hands, as doubtless he had come before, and 
 flattening his small face against the window, 
 looked in with wistful eyes for Miriam. Sir Ro- 
 han knew what he wanted ; he wanted it too ; and 
 his impulse was to beckon him ; but he could not 
 remember the time when he had spoken to a child, 
 and while he hesitated, the visitor, frightened at 
 
 19* 
 
222 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 his stern, pale look, retreated. It was odd that 
 such a trifle should strengthen Sir Rohan's reso- 
 lution. 
 
 But now that the old occupation was gone, the 
 dreary man felt the necessity of fastening his 
 attention elsewhere, and for once, being in the 
 mood, sought for some good to be done to others. 
 There was sufficient awaiting, without leaving his 
 own land. He would regulate and repair his 
 house and its surroundings ; he would improve the 
 condition of his tenantry, of whom, questionless, 
 many were suffering ; he would place education 
 within the reach of those who desired it ; he would 
 inspire the desire. It was not too late to expiate 
 his youth. He would commence at once ; and 
 with a new energy he stepped into the hall, scent- 
 ing the powerful fragrance drafting through the 
 open doors, from the greenhouse. Well, they 
 were pretty dreams! 
 
 But at the foot of the staircase a change over- 
 came him, the color fell from his face again. An 
 instant ago so elastic, now, with drooping head and 
 pensive air, he could scarcely move. Some power- 
 ful attraction seemed drawing him above ; but if he 
 yielded to this, would not the more powerful 
 attraction of Miriam conquer again ? 
 
WORK. 223 
 
 Nevertheless, whatever force it was, battling it 
 at every step, or wearily acquiescing, he submitted, 
 and slowly ascended to the door of his painting- 
 room. Once there, the door seemed to burst open 
 for his entrance, and the alluring power to bring 
 him yet more swiftly till he stood before his pic- 
 ture. Let us also look at the thing. 
 
 It is not a small canvas, being about four feet in 
 height, although rather longer than broad, and is 
 set in a quaint frame of black, carved wood, with 
 an inner reglet gilt to relieve the want of that 
 color in the painting. It is full of purple, misty 
 shades, with one or two flashes of light, yet at first 
 sight devoid of interest, for the only object seems 
 to be a tiny balance held by invisible fingers. One 
 scale descends, the other ascends ; in either lies a 
 violet. These violets are exquisitely finished, the 
 hue soft and rich, while the tissue of the petals is 
 of ethereal delicacy. They are relieved by a 
 doubtful reflex of crimson drapery. In the heart 
 of the upper one rests a dew-drop, a large liquid 
 diamond that has caught the very spirit of concen- 
 trated lustre. It is singular to observe that the 
 only light in the picture radiates from this dew- 
 drop as from a sun. But its jewel has not en- 
 
224 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 lianced the beauty of the flower ; on the contrary, 
 it is wilted, and the fierce rays have creased the 
 frail film, and exhaled the sweet juices. No dew- 
 drop seals the heavier violet. It lies alone, as if 
 just plucked from the woods, nursed by sunshine, 
 fashioned by south winds, yet fed, cherished, and 
 utterly impregnated with the life and beauty of 
 morning dew. Its soft blue bloom is unimpaired, 
 its fresh grace seems imperishable, one fancies that 
 it fills the room and picture with a subtile fra- 
 grance ; a long-stemmed leaf of tenderest green, 
 pulled from the parent root, lies beside it. Your 
 eye lingers on the ungemmed violet, for the con- 
 fused tinge of the remainder of the canvas does 
 not entice, and you wonder why it was not framed 
 in six inches. 
 
 But gazing so long, something seems to unfold, 
 some mist to lighten ; you are aware of the sugges- 
 tion of a finger on which the balance rests, and 
 tracing it up, a round arm, that grows whiter as 
 you pierce the smoky wrapping, till it melts into 
 a shoulder of the perfect mellow mould of a 
 ripened pear, a curve of the neck, a face, while long 
 hair like a cloud of refined shadow shrouds the 
 rest, and is hardly distinct from the dark purple 
 background. 
 
WORK. 225 
 
 Delighted at having discovered a face, and 
 almost imagining yourself the first who has done 
 so, you stay like one entranced till the beauty 
 you are sure must be there resolves before you. 
 
 Behind the mist, the gauzy vapor, the oval 
 brightens with a faint color in the cheek, you even 
 see the dimple in the chin. Each feature gains 
 clearness, and the eyes illumined by the dew-drop 
 open on your sight. 
 
 You feel sure that the room must be swarming 
 with other intelligences waiting upon those eyes. 
 Words fail to express their charm. They are full 
 of a dreamy languor, they are large, serene, and 
 obscure, they are like a flame or sunshine or gold 
 seen through wine or any brown transparency, 
 they are a little darker than topaz, they imbibe 
 rather than emit a sparkle, they seem to have 
 filled themselves with the whole glory of a Roman 
 summer. 
 
 You are still satisfied, but in a measure trained, 
 and glancing down an instant, it appears that the 
 upper scale with its violet and dew-drop forms 
 only a superb ring for some one yet undetected ; 
 searching for whom, you detain in the lower 
 corner a face turned upward, fainter far than the 
 
226 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 other, white, earnest, the eyes almost quivering 
 with eagerness, the brow beaded, the darkness 
 receding from it in folds as if brushed aside by 
 keen motion, the whole suffused with a wild radi- 
 ance. It might be Lucifer. The light is so man- 
 aged that this is the only object casting a distinct 
 shadow. His extended hand is a flash. 
 
 There should be something counter to this ; and 
 erelong, higher up than, but not far distant from 
 the first face, another issues into life. It is not 
 remarkable except for its placidity. It looks down 
 from its cloud as if full of heavenly content ; you 
 perceive the shades are lighter around it, and at 
 once notice its air of vigilance and certainty. All 
 the calm influence of the painting spreads from 
 that. It might be some seraph whose crown is 
 won. 
 
 The composition of the three is good, having the 
 effect of a broad sunbeam falling slantwise ; and 
 the coloring comprises a rich succession and min- 
 gling of tones and semitones, although on a scale 
 of strict selection. 
 
 It is curious that while the first form is so 
 vague and dim, she seems nevertheless the only 
 real one, and these two remaining faces but the 
 
WORK. 227 
 
 people of her reverie : one, perhaps the image of 
 life, temptation overcome ; the other, the ardent 
 dream of passion. You do not doubt into which 
 arms she will fall. 
 
 You are apprised also of something foreign in 
 this form, something, so to say, supernatural. 
 That absorbed smile seems to part and float across 
 the face, these colors to change with a quick 
 pulsation ; you fancy, if released from the frame 
 and scales, it would soar up and away ; you feel 
 uncomfortably, as if the eyes saw you. You be- 
 lieve the artist to have worked beyond his will, 
 and to have wrought that of which he was not 
 conscious, a power above his control inspiring his 
 pencil. It is a wonderful picture, and opulent in 
 tints that would cool an August noon. But hav- 
 ing glanced away, as you return it is once more 
 enveloped in its smoky drapery, and only by a 
 similar process would you again discover the same 
 objects. 
 
 This is what you and I see, little enough for 
 a man to waste so much life on ; but what did Sir 
 Rohan see? A mistier shade, a whiter film, some- 
 thing not of his creation. Vengeful arrows shot 
 from the proud pathos of those eyes ; through the 
 
228 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 haze he had wrought over them, the lips quivered 
 at his gaze with flecks of blue flickering flame ; 
 though fixed, it hovered ; though inanimate, it 
 lived. 
 
 " Had he been mad, so to deceive himself? 
 Could he ever escape it ? Here too ! Here too ! " 
 
 But Sir Rohan had no time to utter such 
 words, or frame so distinctly their thought. The 
 sense alone smote him ; he was wrapped again in 
 the black and poisonous cloud. So shortly since 
 so buoyant, so hopeful, what had ruined him 
 now ? 
 
 He stood tensely, half turned away, but his eyes 
 by irresistible attraction drawn toward and return- 
 ing that gaze, livid and agonized. 
 
 Great God ! the Ghost was in the picture. 
 
XII. 
 
 MORTMAIN. 
 
 NOT long Sir Rohan remained inactive. With- 
 out pausing to consider consequences, with- 
 out hesitating at destroying such labor, he seized 
 the little palette-knife lying near and dashed it 
 madly through the canvas. 
 
 A sudden shock, like a stroke of lightning, 
 smote him; then, for a space, the very silence 
 seemed to sing in his ears. A vacant space, into 
 which ebbed a tide of air, a rush, a tumult, and 
 with all her pristine strength and hate the Ghost 
 flared forth and enveloped him. 
 
 Voluntarily she had entered this prison, to tor- 
 ment him truly, but yet once there he could flee 
 from her ; he could escape from her and he had 
 returned, she was bound and he had freed her. 
 
 Again the Ghost threw her net over him, again 
 dragged him captive in her toils. There are no 
 20 
 
230 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 means to depict, were it desirable, the horror and 
 darkness that overwhelmed him anew ; his fetters 
 galled the more that he had been free. But in 
 coping with material objects she had manifested an 
 incapacity ; her usual cunning seemed to have 
 failed her, her dreadful art served her only for 
 those of the soul. Wrapping his forehead with 
 her clammy breath, she stifled him ; her cold, long 
 fingers were upon him, her hideous embrace 
 around him, that shadow of her hair brushed his 
 cheek, those fierce eyes searched him through and 
 through. Did she breathe, he wondered ; did those 
 glances gloom and flash with the current in her 
 veins ; was that heart palpitant above him ? Then, 
 laughing despairingly at his absurdity, he saw that 
 by her sympathy with the whole free universe its 
 forces were kept in ebb and flow through her ex- 
 istence, and that thus drawing after her in infran- 
 gible connection a strength that was almost om- 
 nipotent, she acquired a personal determination, 
 a deceitful limitation and power infinitely beyond 
 that to be dreamed of from any mere effort of 
 breath or blood. Now the air sobbed away from 
 him, now poured back echoing her horrid laugh. 
 All voluntary motion left him; the Ghost moved 
 
MORTMAIN. 231 
 
 him hither and thither at her will. Each moment 
 became a cycle filled with what unutterable pain ! 
 Like a pricked bubble all his dreams fell dead to 
 the bottom of his heart, and numberless hopes 
 escaped and swam in her lurid light, a whole 
 heaven of possibilities and sorrows as they broke. 
 The morning crawled away, and left him yet in 
 her vindictive hands. Noon passed ; day ; even- 
 ing drew near. He hoped some human being 
 might enter and perhaps dissolve the charm ; but 
 no one came, till dusk brought the housekeeper. 
 He wanted nothing, she heard him say ; he was 
 not ill, she could do nothing for him. He longed 
 to ask her to remain ; the words were on his lips, 
 he thought them uttered ; but the Ghost snatched 
 them off as they rose, and tore them to shreds of 
 inarticulate sound, for Mrs. Redruth closed the 
 door behind her, and again he was alone with the 
 Ghost. Now once more she stretched vividly be- 
 fore his aching eyes the scenes of his youth, and 
 contrasted them with some dim sketch of Miriam 
 pallid, haggard, miry ; and once more shook the 
 web of fire between them. Now she laid her icy 
 cheek on his, peered askance with her chatoyant 
 eyes close beside his own, stained his lips in her 
 
232 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 filthy kisses, and then retreating with grimace and 
 flounce, leered at him from behind a screen of 
 gathering darkness, or flowed forth brandishing 
 keener spears than hitherto, before which he cow- 
 ered and hid his face only to be drawn up again 
 and forced to encounter the terrible dualism. She 
 heaped upon him all the cumulative force of her 
 hibernation. Sleep forsook him; night crowded 
 herself with other Essences ready, it seemed, to 
 assume shape at the Ghost's command. Thought 
 refused to yield him comfort ; he was capable only 
 of torturing sensation. Morning came at last, 
 and the unwearied Ghost sung its reveille, but 
 never left him. If he traversed the house from 
 room to room, still she sailed by his side, opening 
 the doors before them by the power of her will ; or 
 if in some long passage he fancied himself alone 
 an instant, she burst in countless reduplications 
 from every panel, and swept on with her myriads 
 to environ him. Burying himself in the forest, all 
 the air murmured of her ; the leaves of the birch 
 shivered with electric, luminous points, the needles 
 of the pines whispered her messages. Nature, 
 who brings the sick wild beasts to medicinal 
 browse, who heals the gashes of her trees with 
 
MORTMAIN. 233 
 
 slow sweat of crystal tear and fragrant gum, had 
 no remedy for this man who had wounded her. 
 Misery had beset him; not dead, he suffered 
 hell. 
 
 Now and then, Sir Rohan indulged himself in a 
 trifle of extraordinary logic. 
 
 It is impossible to imagine a new color ; beyond 
 the three primary ones and their modifications, 
 the imagination cannot go ; the conception of an- 
 other, original and creative, exceeds mortal capa- 
 bility. But one day the Ghost appeared to him 
 invested in robes of a new color. She floated 
 finely before him, and trailed their lengthening 
 splendor after her. For a moment he stood 
 amazed ; then entering his forsaken painting-room, 
 opened chests and drawers, and proceeded to in- 
 vestigate the sources of this mystery. The Ghost 
 followed him, displaying the full field of color with 
 a mocking apery of vanity, holding it here for 
 a light, dropping it there for a shade. But he 
 searched vainly for any tint owning an affinity 
 with it, following it into shade, or ruling it ; nor 
 could he produce it by any artful mingling of 
 prime or tertiary. Cinnabar, nor realgar, nor any 
 brilliant madder, overpowered it ; mort d'ore was 
 
 20* 
 
234 
 
 in no wise akin to it ; no pigment could catch its 
 life, alien to them all, a monarch of other chro- 
 matics than we possess. He put the things aside, 
 and still stood gazing on the strange hue which 
 the Ghost so accommodatingly paraded. It oc- 
 curred to him that if he could only prove the color 
 to be an optical delusion, he might also infer that 
 the Ghost herself was no more, on this occasion ; 
 and if on this, why not on others ? But while 
 meditating, he could not bring himself to believe 
 in a power of imagining anything which might 
 not exist. If the elements of an object's construc- 
 tion are in the mind, he said, they must also be in 
 the world ; and thus even had he imagined this 
 color, it might exist, and his Ghost then as well. 
 But on the other hand, was he able to imagine it ? 
 Could his will reach up into the heavens, and 
 pluck this secret from God ? As well create an- 
 other sense. No ; he must needs confess his weak- 
 ness there. The color was before him, no illu- 
 sion ; he saw it, he had proved it new, he could 
 not doubt it, and the Ghost must be as real. As 
 this conclusion forced itself upon him, the novel 
 drapery forsook the Ghost, and with her old laugh 
 she soared aloft, swept round the easel, and de- 
 
MORTMAIN. 235 
 
 scending beside him, lay recumbent on the air, 
 with one visionary hand upon his shoulder. But 
 thin and immaterial as was the airy hand, its 
 weight was that of a mountain. 
 
 He had not dared use his pencils before this 
 day ; he did not dare again ; the Ghost had 
 usurped his province ; but he felt now that if he 
 might, his brain in this great heat would strike 
 off glowing thoughts, to circle, like fresh planets, 
 in an immortality of their own. 
 
 Anon the Ghost took a quieter mood, and hung 
 beside him only a sorrowful shadow. Then the 
 memory of Miriam came and poured soft balsams 
 on his wounds ; he caught it, held it firmly, 
 turned it in his mind, and clung to it tenaciously. 
 But at the moment, the Ghost sprang up again, 
 redoubling all her energies, summoning all her 
 alien forces, and every day increasing her threat- 
 enings as he refused to resign it, yet holding her 
 estates by mortmain. 
 
 It became a question with him if there might be 
 no scheme to evade her, if flight would free him, 
 or if other chains might be forged for her ; a 
 question, howbeit, that soon answered itself. Issu- 
 ing one morning from a closet that had been par- 
 
236 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 titioned from his painting-room, he shut the door 
 hastily, and thought, with the exultation of Mace- 
 don on conquering new worlds, that he had shut 
 the Ghost within. He said with a chuckle that he 
 had been too quick for her ; perhaps she humored 
 the supposition, for all that day he enjoyed a quiet 
 that was rare. A quiet so far as she was con- 
 cerned ; but after a little, he began to worry him- 
 self with conjectures, where could she be, and 
 what could she be doing ? At last, a curiosity not 
 to be curbed possessed him. There was a nail in 
 the partition at some height, and if it were re- 
 moved he thought likely he could discover. The 
 Ghost could not be omniscient. Accordingly, hav- 
 ing darkened his room that no light might enter 
 the closet through the aperture, a thing easily 
 avoidable, especially as the other owned a window, 
 he noiselessly drew the nail, and bringing some 
 steps, cautiously mounted them and applied his 
 eye to the hole. At first he saw nothing; then 
 raising his eye he rubbed it vigorously, and again 
 looked. What did he see ? Only another eye at 
 the opposite side, scanning him as he scanned it, 
 scintillating with malicious sparks, and laughing 
 at him in keen mockery and devilish cunning. 
 
MORTMAIN. 237 
 
 There was no deceit for the Ghost, no more pris- 
 ons of his making ; for him she was, he found, 
 omniscient and omnipotent. When she had seen 
 him escaping her by devotion to his easel, she had 
 entered his work and poisoned his art ; but she 
 was not one on whom he could revenge himself. 
 
 Soon, not alone she came, but swept before his 
 vision day and night with a train of other ghosts, 
 ah 1 separate, all glaring, all silent. They spoke no 
 word, but used only that dreadful language of the 
 ghosts, the eye, the wild gesture, the tempest- 
 uous rush, the sigh. From the mantling pools of 
 the heath at noon they gleamed like the faces of 
 corpses ; wading out in the surf at night, they 
 broke to view in every crest ; he never, never was 
 alone again. 
 
 Sir Rohan had at first congratulated himself 
 that he would no longer be with his single Ghost, 
 but a short time taught him the difference was 
 truly that between one sword and twenty. Their 
 silence, too, exasperated him ; he longed for some 
 thundering denunciation, some taunt, some doom. 
 Anything but these tacit threats, these multiplied 
 stings. The eternal wordlessness, solely, was fren- 
 zying. He wandered about without aim or knowl- 
 
238 SIB BOHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 / 
 
 edge, frequently seeing nothing, but hearing the 
 perpetual rustle of unseen movements, as one 
 hears the murmur of a conch. But was he not 
 indeed laying his ear upon a vaster hollow, and 
 striving to see, painted on the gulfs beyond his 
 own identity, a face, the reflex perhaps of his 
 imaginings ? He had walked for hours, at one 
 time, beholding no individual of these milliards, 
 and hearing only their mysterious susurrus ; he 
 had endured it in a corresponding silence. 
 
 " Speak ! " he cried at last, and turning, found 
 himself sitting on a tombstone in the lee of the 
 little church Miriam had described, the three 
 graves, the long slope, and the sea, behind ; and 
 before, between the gap of the cliffs reddening 
 with morning, the cross-roads, and a sunrise 
 boiling wildly athwart low inland plains. One 
 region of the heavens was wrapped in the pomp of 
 crimson brightening vapor that, curling and sail- 
 ing higher, put up a golden lip to take the morn- 
 ing star ; through it broad rays blanched the 
 zenith ; in it the thin moon, waning her last quar- 
 ter, slowly and more slowly dissolved away. At 
 his demand, deadlier stillness seemed to hold the 
 air ; but as if they had always been there, he was 
 
MORTMAIN. 239 
 
 aware, on looking again, of a phalanx of motion- 
 less faces clear with metallic brightness, turned, 
 not at him, but toward the disc of the sun. Before 
 Sir Rohan might have suffered his glance to follow 
 theirs, something shot across and led it on till 
 resting there. It was the tiny blade of a penknife 
 held in long slender fingers, but increasing and 
 swelling as it withdrew, and when it lay on the 
 shining disc, large and flexible as a Damascus 
 blade. A moment it remained quiescent, then 
 waving like a zostera gently from side to side with 
 rippling undulations, it was grasped more ner- 
 vously, and, as if it were a shuttle, tossed to and 
 fro, bending, slashing, twisting, rising, falling, all 
 at once, like not one, but a hundred swords, and 
 with a rapidity that bathed the controlling fingers 
 in a cloud. Now, like the swift wings of birds 
 flashing in the prime, it darted darkly across the 
 light, singing as it went ; and now, like a myriad 
 fish in a sea of aerial brilliance, it swam with 
 curves and whirls, swaying at graceful pleasure. 
 But that which always gave distinctness to the 
 object, and brought it back to its original purport, 
 was a stain of brown rust upon the edge, a 
 stain that had been blood, the coagulation of a 
 
240 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 life. It was the one returning point, that arrested 
 its swiftest motion, that caught it from the most 
 fantastic transformation, and shook it terribly be- 
 fore him. By a peculiar process, Sir Rohan could 
 not resist the belief that the stain was not so much 
 on the knife as on his own soul ; that it was that in 
 truth drawn and played with by those ghostly fin- 
 gers, black against the radiance of dawn. In a 
 kind of trance, he stared at the swift glancing of 
 the blade, till suddenly it leaped toward him from 
 the sun, like an arrow, but fell short of its mark 
 and stuck upright and quivering in the ground ; 
 while that old touch, like compressed wind or a 
 breath from a rarer atmosphere, circled his wrist 
 again, spiritual, chill, and melting like snow. 
 
 When he looked up again, the morning was ad- 
 vanced, the faces faded, and the only object before 
 him was an upright stake driven through the heart 
 of the suicide who had been buried at the junction 
 of the four cross roads. It was the speech he had 
 demanded of the Ghost and her Legion. 
 
 When Sir Rohan trusted himself to look upon 
 his life, he saw it as one who has ascended an 
 apparently extinct volcano. The old lava-streams 
 are gay with wild-flowers that have bedded their 
 
MORTMAIN. 241 
 
 roots among them ; the blackened channels over- 
 grown with vines ; and bending down the savage 
 rifts whose deserted margins are green with moss, 
 nothing but everlasting quiet and sombre shadow 
 meet the eye. Suddenly, the earth trembles, thick 
 vapors, rising, assume wild shapes and darken the 
 lift ; sulphureous flames follow in broad columns ; 
 the old craters yawn and rock the hills, and new 
 mouths belch forth fiery rivers ; while all the de- 
 mons and spirits of fire, who have slept so long in 
 their caverns, start into activity, and forward the 
 work with diabolic glee. And yet as often Sir 
 Rohan wondered if he were not as responsible for 
 these fierce imps that haunted him, as the Ghost ; 
 and such gleams of recognition broke upon him, 
 that he half fancied them the creations of evil 
 thought, or the informing life of all his vicious 
 deeds, now first surrounded with shape. 
 
 He climbed among the gables of the old house, 
 ivy above, within, beneath his nook ; owls staring 
 at him with great horny moons ; bats wheeling 
 around him ; but there too they came. Unim- 
 agined revolting phantasms roaming the dark fir- 
 mament, travelling the winds, dropping on long 
 threads and swinging before him ; silent all, but 
 
 21 P 
 
242 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 restless, capricious, malevolent. Abolishing dis- 
 tance till they showed him a false Miriam in Arun- 
 del's arms, or haled her by the hair across his sight, 
 dead and freshly bleeding ; or while the white bush 
 at the foot of the lawn glowed into the shape 
 of the Ghost, surrounding it with wreaths and 
 arabesques of head and limb and mop and mow, 
 horns, wings, tusks, till rising in a cloud, the 
 Ghost at their head, they charged valiantly and 
 drove him from the lair that seemed instinct with 
 life and stinging in every spray, still pursuing, as 
 he fled, with fresh dismays. 
 
 Strange to say, the most frequent of all these 
 extramundane faces was one resembling Arundel's, 
 pale and shuddering as when taking aim at St. 
 Denys. 
 
 He walked mile after mile on the endless moors 
 by night, and with the empty shell of the sky 
 above, cheated himself into a whim of freedom, 
 till the momentary transport checked his pace, and 
 the rising moon confronted him. It cast long 
 shadows from the margin of the moor toward 
 him, it cast also his own shadow behind him ; what 
 then cast that same shadow, pale and varying, in 
 the path before him ? Turning with frightened 
 
MORTMAIN. 243 
 
 eyes, again his Ghost in her dim red aspect of 
 triumph was at his shoulder, and each time the 
 shock was no less intense. 
 
 In the excruciating pains given by the noxious 
 vapors creeping treacherously into his bones dur- 
 ing these nightly wanderings he hoped that he 
 might merge his mental distress ; but as if his soul 
 were fed by corresponding pulses, every physical 
 pang merely aggravated the wild throbs of anguish 
 there. 
 
 By day again, let him go where he would, a 
 blinding heat and light crowned and dazed him, 
 refulgent atoms of lightning flitted through his 
 vision in clouds, and every actual object wavered 
 as when seen through a veil of fervid air. He 
 felt it impossible to give any material its relative 
 value. -> ' r 
 
 He never looked in a glass now, for there the 
 Ghost was most clearly to be found, as if it needed 
 the substanceless depth of the mirror to paint this 
 essence and evolve her from her shadowy sphere. 
 Yet at horrid times she burned away the awful 
 nimbus that surrounded her like a personal at- 
 mosphere and separated them as the glass seems 
 to separate you from your reflection, but which 
 
244 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 was, indeed, the impassable barrier of worlds, that 
 interposed between her and corporeal things infi- 
 nitely more effectually than rushing leagues of 
 tempestuous sea-foam or ranges of heaven-kissing 
 hills, burned this veil away with a subtile inter- 
 penetration of light, and stepped from her sphere 
 to the shore of his, or rapt him into the bosom of 
 that, till his flesh lay chiller than snow upon his 
 bones, heavier and more lifeless than lead. 
 
 Not infrequently a great horror and darkness 
 fell upon him, wrapping him completely from all 
 outer objects ; and when, after a while, it with- 
 drew and he became conscious of his Ghost, he de- 
 manded if she were not the image of that thrown 
 out bodily, more especially as his mind was of the 
 class prone to individualize and assign every ideal 
 thing its equivalent of personality. 
 
 Hardest of all to bear was the hopelessness of 
 release, the fact of her perpetuity, the knowledge 
 that it was she, and that she was always there. 
 If by any chance tired habit snatched him into 
 sleep awhile, it was only to wake pricked through 
 the eyeballs, and meet the baleful face hanging 
 within an inch of his own. The breath of life 
 itself had now become fear to Sir Rohan ; apathy 
 
MORTMAIN. 245 
 
 kindled to anger, and one trepidation built itself 
 upon another. A month passed, and still the 
 Ghost was his second self, and still as he turned 
 to the thought of Miriam she called her awful 
 legions to destroy it. 
 
 A perpetual distress of this period was the total 
 loss of all privacy. His mind, like some fair ca- 
 thedral nave with pillared aisles withdrawing to 
 lofty twilight, rich in antiquity, experience, the 
 beauty of genius and aspiration, instead of being 
 swept and garnished by pious and orderly hands, 
 and with closed portals repeating the quiet footfall 
 of silent worshippers, was set open to the gaping 
 view of all passers, thronged at the vestibules with 
 hosts of curious intruders, clanging to the fierce 
 tread of haughty scoffers. Rude iconoclasts shiv- 
 ered the shrines, tore up the mosaics, splintered 
 the tracery that crusted mullion and arch like the 
 moss of centuries ; while the air that had wafted 
 only blue-rolling incense, harmony, and prayer, 
 was now scattered by explosive laughter, and 
 silence fled shuddering to far monastic cloisters, 
 still to be caught and destroyed by the ribald pro- 
 fanity that chased it. 
 
 There are few of us, even the most candid, that 
 
246 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 do not keep some inner niche, where we retire 
 alone with our chosen oracle, our single memory, 
 or our hidden hope, but this was denied to Sir 
 Rohan ; and since so few hold their thoughts to the 
 gaze of a friend, who would choose an enemy for 
 their revelator, and that one whose enmity was to 
 be measured, if at all, by the strength of a former 
 love ! Yet at such mercy he lay. Again, though 
 we commonly shrink from investigation of our least 
 wish, and do not desire intrusion on our sorrow, 
 the delicate and fastidious hold their joys in a far 
 greater degree sacred to themselves, and scarcely 
 in their confessions to God pray all that is in their 
 hearts. How, then, could they bear the prying- 
 search of an indifferent eye, and what desecration 
 would their holy 'of holies meet at such insolent 
 touch as this man experienced ! 
 
 One of the most fearful circumstances with 
 which the popular idea has chosen to invest the 
 Day of Judgment is that on that day all secrets 
 shall be revealed ; but this Sir Rohan suffered 
 instantly, already. His thoughts were known in 
 their conception ; there was no ward in his heart 
 of which the Ghost had not the freedom, every 
 nerve of pain or pleasure quivered at her pres- 
 
MORTMAIN. 247 
 
 ence, she exposed the flimsy texture of every 
 dream, every fancy she scanned, every desire she 
 held up and shook derisively. And if such scru- 
 tiny be painful from those who, by the kindred of 
 a race, share our frailties and aims, how must it 
 exceed itself from beings who have not one attri- 
 bute in Common with us, who do not even breathe 
 our air, and own not a single human sympa- 
 thy ? Whether the allies of the Ghost followed her 
 insulting march, or she communicated with them 
 without by some more than electric celerity, Sir 
 Rohan could hardly discriminate, or if their intel- 
 ligent torture would be keener than that effected 
 by unwitting malice. It was enough to feel all 
 hidden things brought to light, each recess rifled, 
 all sanctity violated, and his soul alive and reso- 
 nant with foreign and malign manoeuvres. 
 
 Contemplation of any object is apt to impart to 
 ourselves a tinge of that object's archeus. Thus I 
 should not care to have, too often, the inspection 
 of an elephantiasis, amaurosis, or leprosy, lest the 
 drop serene should be grafted on the mind's eye, 
 or a more dangerous mental leprosy be induced ; 
 and thus Sir Rohan, who at first may have seen his 
 Ghost simply because he knew she was to be seen, 
 
248 SIB ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 at last felt himself in jeopardy of partaking her 
 nature. But hideous as this nature was, had he 
 not made it so? 
 
 Previously he had dreaded death, and driven all 
 his thoughts from it ; he had feared, indeed, worse 
 than he was suffering ; feared too, that he should 
 become of like substance, part and parcel of his 
 Ghost, able to endure finer inflictions. But if 
 he too had laid aside the flesh, would not some 
 ghostly poniard be his ? No, no, he interpreted 
 her look, anew ; he had had his turn. At least 
 some foil for defence, he persisted, then it would be 
 impossible for her to bring him such pain as now ; 
 and truly he desired this release. But whom 
 should he ask ? He dared not take it, and to 
 those who demand him Death never comes. Once, 
 in the evening, as he crossed the dark drawing- 
 room, the light from the hall streamed in at the 
 open door and lay upon the carpet ; the long 
 mirror, nearly opposite, caught this light and shed 
 a brighter air round itself, and a parallelogram of 
 fainter clearness on the floor beside the other. As 
 Sir Rohan entered, his own shadow fell in the 
 first, and he had seen the image of that shadow 
 dimly in the glass, together with the white misti- 
 
MORTMAIN. 249 
 
 ness that, swaying at every breath of air, still un- 
 falteringly served him ; and now returning, before 
 he reached the mirror, he saw again his own ap- 
 proaching shadow, with the Ghost's, not in the 
 glass, but thrown from its bosom upon the floor. 
 Uncertain enough, surely, was the double reflex of 
 his material form ; but how utterly impalpable, 
 ethereal, and evanescent, this accompanying film ! 
 It was as if the freak of light had stripped her of 
 the medium in which she clothed herself for visi- 
 bility, so that naked to the core, her true sub- 
 stance lay in that representation hovering over the 
 carpet ; so that he saw, not her mere refinement, 
 but the reflection of the reflection of the shadow of 
 a shadow. He no longer desired Death to endue 
 him with a similar ghastliness, and abandoned all 
 thoughts of conquering the Ghost by becoming of 
 like stuff. The intangibility and nothingness were 
 awful. He felt that she would embrace him more 
 completely were he free from the flesh ; that in the 
 body, with all its infirmities and susceptibilities, 
 lay his peace or his salvation. He was like those 
 who, having bargained with the fiend for the next 
 world, fix themselves resolutely on the swinging 
 blossom of this, and pierce it for its lingering drop 
 
250 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 of bitter honey. He half fancied that since Na- 
 ture had made one such exception for him, in the 
 case of his Ghost, she might also make another, 
 and decree that he should never die. 
 
 But time fleeting, the fitful darts of pain -be- 
 came the heavy pressure of aching. Again his 
 fancy flew to Miriam. 
 
 He forgot that the Ghost had been growing 
 feebler before she came. Faint enough, he said, 
 had been that influence in her presence ; had she 
 not finally banished it all ? And he suddenly be- 
 lieved it possible that having encountered the vig- 
 orous nature of this joyous girl, the grave-soiled 
 weapons of the other had been found of no avail. 
 He had resolved for Miriam's sake, not to involve 
 her in his own sphere of pain. But had she been 
 miserable while here ? In saving him had she lost 
 herself? Doubtless she was happy now: would she 
 be less so when vanquishing, by her calm virtue 
 and that voice like a sance-bell, these ghouls and 
 vampires that preyed upon him ? 
 
 There are many who have the magnanimity to 
 resign that which costs others too precious a price ; 
 few who have the courage to think, as Sir Rohan 
 did, of the greater price of their accepted resigna- 
 
MORTMAIN. 251 
 
 tion, to weigh with careful poise their benefit and 
 the other's loss. 
 
 Not immediately did Sir Rohan collect his argu- 
 ment; he had chance in the ceaseless operations 
 of his foe for thought but in jets ; yet finally the 
 one conclusion held him, he would seek Miriam, 
 he would never return without her. 
 
 Great need was there now for the Ghost to 
 thrust on her blows with violence, to exert all her 
 sovereignty, and sway her sceptre over the farthest 
 of her winged auxiliaries, investing them with a 
 new power ; and when she resorted to the boldest 
 of her expedients, the danger must have been im- 
 minent. She had ruled a passive victim, now it 
 was an enemy resisting her. Out of his sudden 
 hope night shut down upon Sir Rohan. These 
 wings blackened the sky. That was a fierce time 
 of joy to the Ghost, of agony to Mm. He yielded 
 to it like one in the centre of a hostile battalion, 
 crushed, torn, and bleeding. You, with your 
 healthy organization, laugh at it. To him, dis- 
 eased, sensitive, and replete with consciousness, 
 swords could not have been sharper ; and not the 
 least piercing thorn was that his own hand had 
 loosened the horror, as the fisherman opened the 
 jar for the Genius. 
 
252 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 I have asked myself if this man were mad. 
 But when, if he were, the madness became infec- 
 tious, when these phantoms became apparent to 
 others, I am forced to deny him that relief. 
 
 For now the servants knew of his approach be- 
 fore they heard a footfall. If they met him at 
 dusk, they averred his eyes were burning coals ; if 
 at noon, they unconsciously made way for two. 
 Enormous shadows, they said, danced as though 
 one tossed flambeaux in his path. The maids fled 
 like frightened doves among themselves, and told 
 with sharp whispers of the cloud in which their 
 fancies girt him, as if it held some half-guessed 
 monster to crouch above as he came down the 
 stairs, some form to sweep on either side, some 
 dimmest semblance of a weeping woman always to 
 be seen floating before his eyes : eyes like a sleep- 
 walker, they said, though he so often raising his 
 hand to brush it away ; eyes wide with confusion, 
 oppression, and fright. He looked, they said, as 
 if he walked towards hell, and its shooting flames 
 already threw their expectant shadows across his 
 lurid visage. His old and gentle condescension, 
 his suffering, and kindly patience, availed no jot in 
 the regard of these people, who beheld in him the 
 
MORTMAIN. 253 
 
 victim of unknown, and thence the more terrific 
 agencies. Redruth also, they declared, saw such 
 images, though he said nothing, and one, indeed, 
 was always whispering by his ear. 
 
 But Redruth soon was not alone. These fan- 
 tastic creations filled the house, darted from every 
 closet, lurked in every corner, chased them till 
 their haunted work lay unperformed and they 
 dared not leave one another. Could I ascribe all 
 this to that power in Sir Rohan of stamping his 
 own sensations on the nerves of others? 
 
 Fearful legends now were rife in the place ; the 
 story of Fanchon was bandied about with addi- 
 tions, and it was even circulated that some ancient 
 Knight of the Belvideres had agreed upon a day 
 with the Powers of darkness wherein the whole 
 house should fall with a crash, and the dust of its 
 ruin choke the welkin ; this day they believed to 
 be near, and with the superstition of their class 
 they rose to meet it. 
 
 In people of no high grade of intellect, we often 
 find a material perception, so to speak, a species of 
 instinct, that serves them in these emergencies ; 
 and thus they may have felt rather than seen 
 what they described, and receiving impressions so 
 
 22 
 
254 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 more strongly through the senses, these emotions 
 may have acted upon them in that direction, and 
 taught them to appreciate their master's condition 
 more quickly than by other means. 
 
 Of all this Sir Rohan was aware. He was worn, 
 thin, exhausted, and racked with perpetual pain. 
 But the hour his determination was fully made, he 
 descended heedless, a moment, of the crew that 
 followed. His head throbbed, his cheeks flushed, 
 his eyes burned with the fire in his veins ; a fever 
 boiled his blood ; he ordered his horse in a rage, 
 and mounting, dashed down the lawn with the 
 Ghost, and turned into the path through the park 
 that led to the highway traversing the county on 
 his road to Kent. 
 
 At hurried instants when this whirlwind of 
 flame broke and flashed away from him, his 
 thoughts vaulted buoyantly, and travelled along 
 the track of memory, drawn by unseen but invin- 
 cible chains, over the waste of years, to the pleas- 
 urable scenes of youth ; so that he remembered 
 the beauty and joy of that phase, the hot passion, 
 the indifference, the regret, till out of them leaped 
 a wild hasty deed like a crease from its sheath, 
 and then Remorse chased him ; Remorse that 
 
MORTMAIN. 255 
 
 begat a feverish longing for the restoration of 
 what he had destroyed ; a longing which assumed 
 the semblance of love, and led grief by the hand ; 
 while the first foe still followed, never flagging with 
 his whips, and chasing him into madness. There 
 his thoughts wallowed through a miry flood, till 
 the longing became loathing, the love hatred ; 
 and struggling to free himself he slipped in viler 
 sloughs, where successive horrors encompassed 
 him, receding and advancing like the waves of 
 a sea, till on their long rolls they tossed up the 
 Ghost. And these same thoughts dimly perceived 
 himself now, with the great darkness falling again 
 upon him, that, as he peeled it in broad flakes 
 from one place, fell upon another. 
 
 His frenzied violence at departure was not un- 
 noticed by Redruth, who followed at a distance 
 through the wilderness of neglected growth. 
 Toward nightfall, while he still wandered hardly 
 knowing why, crackling boughs and an intermit- 
 tent trampling drew him from the path, and in 
 the thickest of the woods he found his master 
 thrown senseless at the trunk of a tree, the snort- 
 ing horse not far off. There was a wood-cutter 
 within hail, the sound of whose cutting fell with 
 
256 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 clear echoes, a ringing musical chopping ; and 
 having secured his aid, they exerted all their 
 strength, raised the senseless man to the saddle, 
 and led him home. 
 
 Physicians were soon summoned, but Kedruth 
 bethought himself of a nurse tenderer than the 
 others, though so far away, and wrote that night 
 to St. Denys, directing his letter by the one he had 
 found on the clavichord. Scarcely had the mail 
 time to reach the Castle and return, when Miriam 
 and St. Denys stood by the sick man's bedside. 
 
XIII. 
 
 HALCYON DAYS. 
 
 SIR ROHAN lay prostrate under a fierce fever ; 
 only a constitution of iron strength, wiry and 
 elastic, could have arisen from it. For many days 
 the unrelenting heats stung him along narrow 
 ways. Goaded, parched, and panting, at last sleep 
 overtook him ; the delirium consumed itself ; and 
 waking, purposeless and dejected, life fluttering at 
 his pulse for release, as he hung in the balance of 
 Fate, he found the Ghost gone. It were an idle 
 speculation to question if she found sorrow in the 
 work imposed upon her or self-assumed, she was 
 flown with her battalia to assist his other enemy. 
 
 As his languid eyes opened, and he slowly re- 
 ceived perception of what he saw, Miriam, sitting 
 at a low table with her needle, seemed as much an 
 apparition as all things else ; and again he suffered 
 the weary lids to fall. But she had seen the 
 
 22* 
 
258 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 glance, and rising with her sweet smile, came 
 toward him, moistened his lips with the cordial, 
 rearranged the pillows while the physician raised 
 him, welcomed him back to life with low happy 
 tones ; and as he raised his eyes again, met them 
 with so kind a gaze, so pitying, so tender, that his 
 faint heart trembled in his throat. 
 
 Some change he felt in her nevertheless ; what, 
 he could not trouble himself to find, but a happy 
 one ; and at all events, she was here, she was real, 
 the Ghost would never display her in this guise. 
 It was St. Denys, too, entering now, frank, warm- 
 hearted, rejoicing, reassuring him, and bringing 
 smiles to his pale lips. He was right, he said to 
 himself; he knew Miriam would free him. Too 
 weak to be glad, he only felt the vacancy left 
 around him, as one dwelling on the coast misses, 
 when travelling inland, the measured beat upon 
 the rocks, the distant whisper of the surf along 
 the sand. But with these brief hints of the Ghost, 
 his heart beat so hotly that, life now again invalu- 
 able, he was forced to cease all thought and aban- 
 don himself to the luxury of repose, of receiving 
 care, of seeing Miriam. 
 
 Day by day now brought returning strength, 
 
HALCYON DAYS. 259 
 
 health flowed back in its old channels, he sat up 
 several hours. During this halcyon period, Mir- 
 iam read to him what was to be found, a task that 
 perhaps she would not have chosen to please her- 
 self alone, reading just light enough to beguile his 
 mind, while the musical accent soothed his ear ; or 
 recited, in the twilight, pastorals slipping along a 
 stream of smooth vowels, that she had picked up 
 somewhere in her wanderings, or ballads whose 
 breath was a lengthened sigh, recited them, till 
 from their dim and tearful atmosphere she seemed 
 only to have taken shape for the nonce. She sur- 
 rounded him with sweet-smelling flowers, served 
 his dainty diet with a fastidious grace peculiar to 
 herself, ransacked her brain for devices against 
 monotony. Always she had a treasury of spark- 
 ling gossip on which to draw, till judging he had 
 heard enough. She imparted health as a heated 
 iron imparts caloric. 
 
 Before long she ceased to be with him so much, 
 and very soon Sir Rohan found means to descend 
 to the drawing-room for a part of every day. Then 
 with St. Denys they drove out in the open ever- 
 green glades of the park, imbibing health, though 
 scarcely equal strength, from the sweet resinous 
 
260 SIR KOHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 perfume that loaded the air, where the sun had 
 lain all day on the pines, more richly than that of 
 orange-groves. Or in the clear mornings Miriam 
 drove him into the neighboring town, where the 
 gay colors and voices, the bustle and merriment, 
 consequent on the autumn fairs, pleased him like 
 a child, and full of jokes and glee he assisted in 
 the shopping, and manifested the airy sportfulness 
 of a boy, relapsing into completest fatigue after 
 the first draught of exhilaration. It was soon 
 decided that, when able to travel, he should re- 
 turn with his guests to Kent, spending the winter 
 there ; and meanwhile, for a man thus palpitating 
 from recent misery, this was bliss enough. 
 
 Autumn now was at its height. The woods of 
 beech and elm had burned themselves away like 
 the funeral pyre of Summer, the oaks were yet 
 brown, and the sky a perfect blue full of softer 
 shades round the horizon. With Miriam by his 
 side, Sir Rohan, believing himself almost re- 
 stored, enjoyed the air, the quiet, when one 
 afternoon Arundel was announced. Before he 
 greeted the others, by more than a familiar nod, 
 he walked toward Sir Rohan. 
 
 " It was a great liberty I took, sir," he said, in 
 
HALCYON DAYS. 261 
 
 a low tone. " I most truly beg your pardon. I 
 hope you will believe that if I had been myself 
 such conduct wouldn't have transpired. And if 
 you still desire it, am ready to afford you the sat- 
 isfaction demanded, although I can't but trust you 
 think better of it, and will number me among your 
 friends." 
 
 " Point device ! " said Miriam. 
 
 Sir Rohan shook his extended hand warmly, for- 
 getting everything in his present moods. 
 
 " I have satisfaction enough," he replied, " in 
 returning health, and my friends are not so many 
 that such an addition is unacceptable." 
 
 But hardly were the words spoken, when the 
 scene in the woods rushed upon his recollection. 
 He colored and bit his lip. After all, who knew ? 
 Arundel might not have fired; Sir Rohan would 
 give him the benefit of the doubt. Meantime, the 
 wily lawyer was proceeding with volubility. 
 
 "I have been waiting more impatiently than 
 you will believe, for this opportunity of offering 
 apologies," he returned, " ever since my trip to 
 the North ; and I am pleased to find you so much 
 better than I expected ; " saying which, he turned 
 to salute his relative and Miriam. 
 
262 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " Since I couldn't go, you came, St. Denys," he 
 said, " the very person I was wishing to see. You 
 must allow me to congratulate you on your excel- 
 lent management of invalids. You should take 
 out letters overt for the art." 
 
 " That palm, Marc, must be laid at Miss Miri- 
 am's feet." 
 
 " 0, she is a perfect Hygieia, begging her pardon 
 for the heathenism," he rejoined. " But strength 
 is needed, Sir Rohan," he added, returning to the 
 charge. " You remind me of the prayer of an old 
 Methodist friend of mine, for his dissolute son : 
 ' Lord, take my son John and shake him over ' 
 a place I 'd mention if your polite ears were not 
 here, Miss Miriam, 'but, Lord, hold on thy 
 grip ! ' And I should say the Lord had taken the 
 wrong person." 
 
 "An old story, Mr. Arundel," said Miriam, 
 laughing. "I was boasting once to Sir Rohan 
 of your historical powers, but this seems rather 
 of the lyric order." 
 
 " So ! Are we never to sing truce ? " 
 
 " that 's no matter ! But when will you tell 
 us something to make our hair stand on end, as 
 Nell and Nan say? Something really tingling 
 
HALCYON DAYS. 263 
 
 with terror ? You 've been up at the North ? 
 Then certainly you have picked up a new story." 
 
 " And you want to hear one, Miss Miriam ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, as a price of peace, when the evenings 
 are longer, and I have untied the last knot in my 
 last case, I will tell you the story of that. It will 
 be well worth your while." 
 
 " I am very glad to be at peace, Mr. Arundel," 
 Miriam said, smiling. 
 
 " And how do your farms do without you, St. 
 Denys ? " said he, approaching him. 
 
 " Yery well, I fancy ; they are used to the ex- 
 periment. It will not be long, though ; we hope 
 to take Sir Rohan with us for a season." 
 
 Arundel was slightly surprised. " Indeed ! " he 
 exclaimed. " Is Kent more salubrious than " 
 
 " no. But it is a change ; and then it is time 
 Miriam went more into society, her kingdom has 
 waited long enough for its Queen. And while she 
 is dancing round I 've no notion of sitting alone. 
 Perhaps you will come too, Marc," he added, with 
 an effort. 
 
 "You credit me with fine remembrance. No, 
 it 's impossible. I can't leave home again till 
 spring." 
 
264 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 Miriam had said to herself, when he was speak- 
 ing with Sir Rohan, " So Judas kissed his Master ; " 
 but now, on the contrary, she was actually pleased 
 with him. " He was quite bearable," she declared 
 afterward ; " apologized for an affront, promised a 
 story, and refused to go to Kent! " And perhaps 
 if she had thought on the subject a moment longer, 
 she would have joined, from mere good-nature, in 
 St. Denys's invitation. 
 
 " You are indefatigable, Mr. Arundel," said Sir 
 Rohan. 
 
 " Success requires it. But while you are here, 
 St. Denys, I am at your service." 
 
 This was more than St. Denys had asked, but 
 he thought there were certain reasons for feeling 
 more kindly than usual toward Arundel, and 
 therefore would have replied urbanely, had not 
 Sir Rohan himself thanked him for his offer, 
 judging that the attempt upon St. Denys would 
 not be repeated, even if that whole morning were 
 not a madness. It is a peculiarity of those who 
 deal with unreal things, that they soon are inca- 
 pable of distinguishing the true. Moreover, Sir 
 Rohan indistinctly felt St. Denys to be safer in 
 the open society of Arundel, where there could 
 
HALCYON DAYS. 265 
 
 be fewer opportunities of ambush ; and now that 
 Miriam's fortune was probably secured, there 
 could be less motive. 
 
 " With only a convalescent as companion, and 
 in so gloomy a house," said he, "my friends 
 will have to call too largely on their inner sun- 
 shine." 
 
 " That is one of the inexhaustible things," 
 replied Miriam. " The more you use it, the 
 more there is of it." 
 
 " Nevertheless, Miss Miriam," said Arundel, 
 " you do not illustrate your assertion. Where is 
 all your gayety gone, ' Quips and cranks and 
 wanton wiles'? Your spirits are as still now as 
 they were exuberant a year ago." 
 
 " Not spirits, but manners ; one is not so 
 happy when boisterous," she returned. 
 
 But at Arundel's remark, Sir Rohan threw 
 his searching glance at Miriam, to question if it 
 were a fact. True, he had himself observed, 
 that her ways were more quiet than before, that 
 only now and then the blithe roysterer broke 
 from a cloud of mild proprieties, that the once 
 sudden angles of her motions had rounded them- 
 selves into curves of a slow grace ; she scarcely 
 
 23 
 
206 
 
 spoke so much, nor was her laugh so loud, nor 
 was it always to be known which way she went, 
 as formerly, hy her scattered properties. But 
 her brow was clear, her smile sweet ; no, it was 
 not change, but development. Do we not al- 
 ways accumulate so slowly, so gradually, that 
 the process seems imperceptible emotions and 
 experiences for a new phase of life, and wait for 
 some sudden event to give them crystallization 
 or destiny ? So it had been with Miriam, he 
 thought; and so, while away from him, she had 
 passed in a beautiful efflorescence from child to 
 woman. She seemed to him too rich in some 
 real happiness, to bubble up with an efferves- 
 cence of joyousness. She had reached the first 
 period of self-consciousness, a period as full of 
 bliss as of pain. The heir apparent to so regal 
 bounty, as this perfect creature must be, need 
 not hasten to assume her crown and display 
 the dazzle of its gems, he thought. 
 
 " Moreover," resumed Miriam, a little aside, 
 to Marc, while he thus meditated, " I may be 
 triflingly stunned by your agreeability." 
 
 " All ? I did not think of claiming any share 
 in so delightful a transformation." 
 
HALCYON DAYS. 267 
 
 "Now you are going to be rude, Mr. Arun- 
 del ! " she said, half pouting. 
 
 Arundel looked at her a moment with a pecu- 
 liar expression, then, without replying, startled 
 Sir Rohan by exclaiming, " Half-past four ! Do 
 you ever dine here, or do you live on the am- 
 brosia of . I must bid you good morning, Sir 
 Rohan. I shall see you soon again, St. Denys." 
 
 " Once in a while we dine," said Sir Rohan. 
 " Will you stay and try po thick ? It would give 
 us much pleasure." 
 
 "Why, no, sir; but let me hope that at some 
 other time I may, Arab fashion, eat your salt." 
 And he turned to go, first exchanging a few low 
 words with St. Denys. 
 
M ; 
 
 XIV. 
 
 MIRIAM'S KINGDOM. 
 
 TRIAM had slipped from the room, but as 
 Arundel stepped into the hall he heard 
 her light footfall, and in a moment more was 
 beside her again. 
 
 "I brought you this bouquet, Miss Miriam," 
 he said, notwithstanding he could see the over- 
 flowing greenhouse as he stood, " and was so 
 ungallant as to forget about it. It is faded 
 now, yet perhaps you will take it ; " and he 
 offered it with a glance and gesture that broadly 
 told of a heart offered anew with it. 
 
 Miriam hesitated a moment, then receiving 
 them, said, " Thank you for your flowers." 
 
 " And the heart goes for nothing ? " he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " No, no, Marc, do not speak so ; you know 
 we are to be friends." 
 
MIRIAM'S KINGDOM. 269 
 
 " Friends! I don't want your friendship, I 
 ask for your love ! " 
 
 " Love would not be worth taking, without 
 the other." 
 
 " Miriam, how long must I serve ? Could 
 you ask for more constancy? Love will come, 
 once sealed by marriage." 
 
 " Marriage is too divine a sacramental bread 
 to be broken between us," she said. 
 
 " Marriage is n't a sacrament in our church," 
 he retorted. 
 
 "Not a sacrament, but too frequently on one 
 side a sacrifice." 
 
 " Then you won't be my wife ? I need n't 
 ask, I see ; you 've your old answers pat. But 
 they 're all false ; only this one true you love 
 him him ! But he never shall have you," 
 he added in a lower yet fiercer tone. "Your 
 words can be his ruin ; it hangs on you. See ! 
 I never will ask again. Refuse me now, and it 
 is forever ! " 
 
 A quick, angry answer leaped to Miriam's lip 
 arid flashed in her eye ; but something taught her 
 that if the man loved he suffered, and repressing 
 it, she only said pleadingly, 
 
 23* 
 
270 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " Don't make me angry, Marc." 
 
 He turned upon his heel as if to go, but re- 
 tracing his steps, came and bent toward her face. 
 Miriam sprang back indignantly, then heard his 
 short laugh, as he exclaimed, 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! we should do capitally on the boards. 
 No two better actors in the kingdom. If St. 
 Denys should die and leave you unprovided for, 
 I 'd advise you to try it ! " and before the wrath 
 that overwhelmed her could find expression, he 
 was gone. - His last coarse words, she saw, had 
 betrayed him. It was St. Denys's money, not his 
 ward, he wooed. He should have it all. 
 
 Yet a year afterward, when she heard that 
 Arundel, still doubtless on his way weaving snares 
 for others, was himself caught in one that forced 
 him to seek safety in emigration, where, with an 
 ocean between them, she was never again to be 
 troubled by his sight or influence, Miriam did 
 not regret that words had failed her on this oc- 
 casion. 
 
 Meanwhile, within the drawing-room, St. Denys, 
 as Arundel went out, looked up and surveyed his 
 companion from head to foot. 
 
 "For Heaven's sake, Rohan," he said, "why 
 
MIRIAM'S KINGDOM. 271 
 
 are you not like ordinary men, and twenty years 
 younger ? " 
 
 " Things without remedy should be without 
 regard," sadly quoted the other. 
 
 " I wonder if I am doomed to mistrust that man 
 continually ? He seemed to you very affable this 
 afternoon ? " 
 
 " Yes, very." 
 
 " And I have always observed him so, when 
 most pleased at any piece of mischief he has in 
 hand. Before this spider spins his toils round her, 
 my friend," continued St. Denys, somewhat cau- 
 tiously, " why not win and marry my little girl?" 
 This proposal he made with the air of one ashamed 
 of himself, as an Englishman would barter a Cir- 
 cassian. 
 
 " Impossible ! " ejaculated Sir Rohan, looking at 
 him with wonder, and now that his own wish 
 was urged by another, summoning every reason 
 to oppose it. "I am wedded to an inexorable 
 past." 
 
 St. Denys seemed confounded an instant. " You 
 are speaking figuratively ? " said he then. 
 
 " I mean that I will not poison your i little 
 girl's' existence by the shadow of my own." 
 
272 SIB ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " I hardly comprehend you. But if Death has 
 ever brought you a sorrow such as it brought me, 
 I cannot imagine where a dearer consolation is to 
 be found than mine, than Miriam. You love her 
 now. And as for the poison, pshaw ! She was 
 never so gay as in your house." 
 
 " Do you know that I think I must have been 
 mad awhile ago, if not a great portion of my 
 life ? " 
 
 " More mad now, if you persist." 
 
 " I beg you not to mention the thing to her. If 
 unconscious, let her remain without making me 
 abhorrent by such an idea." 
 
 " Don't slander my friend, if you please. And 
 remember that, since you cannot be improved, 
 nothing would give me more happiness. Try." 
 
 " I am ill and old." 
 
 " How old are you, Rohan ? " 
 
 " Forty." 
 
 " A vast age ! and I a lustre more. What gray- 
 beards ! " 
 
 " I wonder why," said Sir Rohan after a pause, 
 " you cherish this romantic friendship for me. I 
 do nothing to deserve it, all to forfeit it ; and after 
 sleeping twenty years, it is all at once bright as 
 
273 
 
 " It has not slept twenty years. What use is it 
 to recall our boyhood, I should like to know ? 
 We were friends then. I could not have been 
 living but for you, Rohan ; and after that, had we 
 any games, studies, or thoughts but in common, 
 till you left me ? Who had ever more morbid 
 weaknesses corrected by another than I by you ? 
 I owe infinite sums to your courage, your friend- 
 ship. You don't forget it, though you have buried 
 yourself alive. How can I ? " 
 
 " And can you look at me with clear eyes, and 
 fail to see that I should make her miserable ? " 
 " Certainly I fail to see it." 
 " Then why do you wish me changed ? " 
 " Checkmated ! Why, sir, that you may fill a 
 young lady's ideal." 
 
 " And you think that possible ? " 
 " Perhaps I ought to ask if she fills yours." 
 " You should remember that I have no ideal." 
 " My child, indeed, has had no mother," said 
 St. Denys, apologetically, "has wanted for all 
 feminine instruction, and lacks a little that un- 
 broken dignity of the thorough lady ; but " 
 
 " She is the freer from artificiality therefore ; 
 the rarer, richer," interrupted Sir Bohan. 
 
274 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " You think it ? Then why not follow my ad- 
 vice, win her ? " 
 
 " By God's help, I will ! " Sir Rohan was about 
 to say. But what right had he who had broken 
 law to require help ? It was an obstacle not to be 
 destroyed, so he turned his back upon it. " As I 
 live, I will," he said. 
 
 St. Denys took his hat and stepped upon the 
 terrace, in search of Redruth, the glamour of 
 friendship still sealing his eyes ; and Sir Rohan, 
 with beating heart, waited an instant before open- 
 ing the door and unexpectedly confronting Mir- 
 iam. 
 
 She stood where Arundel had left her at the 
 foot of the staircase, one hand upon the balus- 
 trade, the other hanging by her side, with droop- 
 ing head and sidelong glance, absorbed in reverie. 
 At his advance, she started, and caught her foot in 
 the heavy mat. He bent to disentangle it, and as 
 he rose with the flush of stooping on his face, said 
 simply, " St. Denys says we must leave soon. 
 When I return, shall it be alone ? Will you come 
 with me, Miriam ? " 
 
 She hardly knew what he said ; her mind was 
 not yet clear from the storm Arundel had aroused. 
 
MIRIAM'S KINGDOM. 275 
 
 Ire, to be thus addressed again and so soon, re- 
 newed the confusion, and with a curling lip she 
 sprung past him up the stairs and into her own 
 apartment. 
 
 Yet once there, her face sunk into her hands. 
 What had she said ? What had she done ? Had 
 he asked her to return with him ? How ? As his 
 wife ? Yes, yes. But was it true, what that 
 wretch had said ? Did she love him Did she 
 not love him ? "0 my heart ! " she cried, as it 
 rushed over her, " is it too late ? " And impetu- 
 ously as she had entered the room, she left it. 
 
 But at the first step a sentiment, totally new, 
 routed her ; a timidity, a shame, a doubt ; and 
 more and more slowly she descended, till standing 
 in the selfsame attitude at the foot again. 
 
 Sir Rohan remained, according to his custom 
 when suddenly excited, as the blow struck him, 
 upright, motionless, and frozen one might say, but 
 for a scarlet dye upon his cheek. The hush about 
 him was like that preceding some explosion, when 
 every breath seems drawn into stillness. He ap- 
 peared not to notice her as she stood there, till at 
 last, as unreasonably, he turned slowly toward the 
 beautiful face bathed in tears, the great eyes 
 
276 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 raised a moment to his, full of love. He stooped 
 forward, his breath swept her cheek, his lips 
 touched hers, grew to them, in a passionate dar- 
 ing. Then, as wildly, he tore them off, and com- 
 menced walking the hall. 
 
 How long she waited, paled and flushed alter- 
 nately in uncertainty, hope, and fear, Miriam did 
 not know. She abode like a culprit, while her 
 sentencer measured the tiles with his stride. The 
 great tongue of the clock struck six, and only with 
 its resonant clangor did his step cease. 
 
 " Miriam, Miriam," he murmured like one in a 
 dream, " do you love me ? " 
 
 " You know I do, Sir Rohan," she answered 
 pathetically. 
 
 She felt him draw near, though she dared not 
 see, felt his ardent smile, his outstretched arms, 
 the embrace with which they held her ; and 
 silently, Miriam had found her costly kingdom. 
 
 And for Sir Rohan, all things were swallowed 
 in the fruition of the moment. Life was sweet, he 
 said ; rest and joy. Life was Miriam. 
 
THE TWO. 
 
 THE next week to Sir Rohan passed in a deliri- 
 ous rapture ; every hour with its blessings 
 repaid him for a year's pain ; and Miriam, crown- 
 ing his ecstasy to-day with her sweet gravity, to- 
 morrow with a triumph of wild and overflowing 
 gayety, filled him at first with keen delight, and 
 then with an alarm as exquisite, lest some sudden 
 sorrow should fall and quench the flame. In her 
 felicity he believed as fully as in his own. 
 
 St. Denys, glad as and more hilarious than 
 they, left the lovers by themselves, and made 
 arrangements for their departure, whose day he 
 finally fixed. 
 
 When Sir Rohan considered his happiness, it 
 appeared too great a thing to be true ; and if Mir- 
 iam left his side for a time, he feared lest it should 
 prove some illusion that would shortly refuse to 
 
 24 
 
278 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 deceive him. He felt himself again in the vernal 
 flood of youth, and cast not a thought 011 the dark 
 tide between, for 
 
 " True love hath no powre 
 To looken backe ; his eies be fixt before." 
 
 As for Miriam, she was more glowing, more 
 radiant, than a Maenad. Her eyes flashed vivid 
 lightnings all day ; existence was to her like a 
 sculptured frieze, a perpetual scene of never-vary- 
 ing enjoyment. The contrast which they pre- 
 sented was that between a picture blazing with 
 gorgeous Venetian tints and another abounding 
 only in quiet cinereous colors and stern outlines ; 
 but his tranquillity was as grateful to her as cool 
 draughts from a rocky well to one in midsummer. 
 Her life was full of salient points, each one beaked 
 in sunshine. He was still and grave : she needed 
 toning down. Their difference in age exceeded 
 twenty years ; nevertheless, he was still young, 
 and that was all she was. At least, so Miriam 
 felt. 
 
 As St. Denys saw them thus together, he re- 
 membered that in the midst of the fierce August 
 heats that brood over a languishing land and 
 sting out the red bells and pricking growth of 
 
THE TWO. 279 
 
 later summer, there sometimes comes a day that 
 scents the fresh stir of advancing autumn, the 
 clear air washing a cool retiring blue with frosty 
 sparkles of vigor and hope, and all the earth turn- 
 ing, as it seems, to a new phase of fine and sweet 
 maturity. 
 
 One asks what is this love that never palls, that, 
 shift the kaleidoscope as you will, presents a new 
 configuration. It must be the universal sympathy 
 alone, you answer, which will not suffer it to 
 tire. About ambition, jealousy, and crimes, the 
 world varies ; that age demands a good hater, this 
 repudiates him. But Love is the flower of every 
 age, and foreign to no clime. Is it any fable, the 
 flower-juice dropped on sleeping lids ? Is it not, 
 rather, the fanciful expression of a broad truth ? In 
 what subtle atmosphere do lovers move, that, once 
 breathed, intoxicates with all imaginative freaks of 
 infatuation ? What delicate ether is it that creeps 
 from heart to heart to bathe both in one medium ? 
 Whence come the threads that knit each to the 
 caprices of the other's slavery ? What lodestone, 
 what cynosure, with all magnetic secrets and 
 latent force, equals the fearful and delicious at- 
 traction that draws either soul into eternal sub- 
 
280 
 
 jection and revolution. We know the secrets of the 
 earth's magnetism, her currents, her poles, her me- 
 ridians ; we know nothing of this airy evanescence 
 that flees at a glance, and baffles all our ponderous 
 pursuit, yet swings a planet at its will, and is the 
 Viceroy of creation. What wise magician shall ever 
 come to read the ancient and mystical book of its 
 lore, text and commentary, to translate to us the 
 strangest of familiar things, the simplest of en- 
 chantments, the most terrible of blisses to tell 
 us what is Love. It is the crown of all experi- 
 ence, say its prophets. It is a fulness, an impe- 
 rial largess from overflowing spirits, a wealth of 
 joy like generous sunlight, a strength, a glory, an 
 aureole, say its devotees. It is a void, a need, a 
 pain, say its victims. And those who stand with- 
 out, who see the dance and do not hear the music, 
 what more weird fantastic folly, the madness of 
 the saturnalia, the sacred fury of eleusinian or 
 evantian choir, ever dawns upon their dazzled 
 darkness ! 
 
 What drew these two (of whom the story tells) 
 together, what made of them a single creature, 
 with one wish, one thought, one life, nothing 
 clearly defines ; but no rod of divination is needed 
 
THE TWO. 281 
 
 to detect the kindred quality of each. A stream 
 that runs its melancholy race in dark, subterra- 
 nean caverns, is no less the same when it hursts to 
 light above in joyous flashes filled with the sun so 
 long denied, no less it falls from its brilliant frolic 
 and flows on quietly to the great sea beyond. 
 
 In any unseen vase of flowers we discriminate 
 the odors, and there is honeysuckle, we think, that 
 mignonette, this sweetbrier. But that of two ori- 
 ental coronations no more nor less than twin 
 garden pinks with its ineffable spice of clove 
 and cassia, who thinks of separating ? The two 
 do not emit different rays of perfume, but slip- 
 ping into each other, form one. They are the 
 same thing. What else were Sir Rohan and Mir- 
 iam? And what more frail and perishable than 
 their unsupported happiness ? 
 
 I linger a moment over these few brief days, 
 days marred by nothing, days coming but once. 
 They have for me that fragrance of a book where 
 I have pressed a rose, and a shade of soft sadness 
 always tinges such in the remembrance, it may 
 be, like an attraction of opposite poles. And thus 
 the image of Miriam, resplendent in loveliness, 
 bathed in wafts of light and grace, a flowery thing 
 
 24* 
 
282 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 of smiles and joy, standing in the dark halls of 
 the gray old house, beneath the stone heraldic 
 cope, if seen through this magic lens that mel- 
 lows all the landscape and imparts a golden air, 
 borrows from it also that pathos which distance 
 and excessive beauty give. 
 
XVI. 
 
 IN THE LANES. 
 
 ONE morning shortly after this event, the gen- 
 tlemen were walking to and fro in the shrub- 
 bery. There had been no frost yet, but the dew 
 lay in tiny globes on the broad leaves as if shiver- 
 ing and clustering for company. To them came 
 Miriam, in a daintiness of morning costume but 
 recently indulged. 
 
 " Papa," said she, " I wish I could talk slang." 
 " My dear, I don't find you deficient there." 
 " I expected that ! But I mean jockey slang, so 
 that I could challenge Sir Rohan to a race over 
 the downs, in real sporting phrase. It 's so clear 
 and breezy, and would do him such worlds of 
 good!" 
 
 " I take up the glove without the accomplish- 
 ment," said Sir Rohan, " and back Pharo against 
 the Benshee at any odds." 
 
284 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 "Will you make a book, papa?" 
 
 "Not I!" St. Deny s returned. "It would be 
 difficult to decide where the most money were to 
 be lost." 
 
 " 0, I don't know. The Benshee has n't been 
 out this season. You rode Pharo to the hunt last 
 week, I did n't hear that you checked the hounds 
 though. It will be rather stupid for so old a 
 hunter as Sir Rohan to ride without anything 
 ahead, to kill, that is ; but then my hat is killing, 
 and he will always have that before him." 
 
 " Like certain Easterns then, I ride for a bride. 
 Don't flatter yourself with hopes of escape ! " said 
 Sir Rohan. 
 
 " So at the best of it," she laughed, " when you 
 catch me, you catch a Tartar." 
 
 " Well, little one," said St. Denys, " you seem 
 to have attained your object without too much 
 slang, though I have my doubts if your opponent 
 can do more than swing in his saddle just now. 
 What put that particular branch of education into 
 your head ? " 
 
 " Oh ! Don't you know ? There are some gyp- 
 sies somewhere across the moor, real north coun- 
 try people, and they talk slang, of course. And 
 
IN THE LANES. 285 
 
 one of them, papa," she added, lowering her voice, 
 "the housekeeper says, was hung in London, a 
 little while ago, for something he did on the way 
 here ; and they are very angry about it. How 
 they wander round ! Do you suppose they came 
 down to see the land's end ? " 
 
 " An old woman, belonging to them, was here 
 last night," said Sir Rohan. " Did n't she speak 
 with you ? " 
 
 " Yes. She was talking with the maids, and I 
 went out and crossed her palm. But she was 
 very odd. She only muttered some gibberish 
 slang, maybe and threw my hand up to my 
 face, looked at me a minute, and whispered, ' So 
 you think you '11 marry him, the pale villain yon. 
 Toss it away, you won't. You are one of us.' " 
 
 " Miriam, she did n't say that ? " asked Sir 
 Rohan. 
 
 " Truly ! Who cares ? I should like to see 
 
 / 
 
 her forbid the banns ! " said she. 
 
 " Saucy Miriam ! where are your blushes ? " 
 exclaimed St. Denys. Whereupon, the breakfast- 
 bell ringing, she ran away. 
 
 In an hour or two, at Sir Rohan's direction, 
 Pharo and the Benshee appeared in the avenue, 
 
286 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 and very shortly, side by side, with their riders, 
 they were finding their way up the long field. 
 Before them a fence reared itself, with a lofty 
 gate which Sir Rohan rode forward to open. 
 
 " Not that way, Sir Rohan ! " cried Miriam, 
 and making a short turn, the Benshee took it like 
 a bird, and flew along the other side with the 
 speed of a racer. In a moment Pharo followed, 
 thundering close behind. Miriam turned in her 
 saddle to see, then shook loose her reins and flew 
 on. The Benshee was thorough-bred, and exhila- 
 rated with her new freedom and kindled by the 
 pursuer, covered the ground well ; and though 
 Miriam was a light weight and a light hand, and 
 though she spanned an ugly gap kicking the dirt 
 into Pharo's eyes, she could not rid herself of him, 
 or put more than that distance between them. A 
 naughty glee was in Miriam's heart, she won- 
 dered how one could be happier than swinging 
 through the air with such a lordly swiftness, drank 
 in great draughts of the fresh air, and inwardly 
 staked every hope she had in life on keeping 
 foremost. 
 
 A lane with rough fences here intersected the 
 course ; if they turned down the fields, Pharo 
 
IN THE LANES. 287 
 
 would certainly lead ; Miriam determined to take 
 the fence, badly as it looked, and ignorant of what 
 might be beyond, giving the Benshee head, she 
 rode straight upon it. Sir Rohan called to her in 
 vain ; she pointed forward with her whip, and 
 dashed on. The top of many Cornish fences is 
 flat and broad, so that one usually walks upon 
 them, and suddenly a peasant, with a bundle 
 of fagots on his head, started into view as he 
 slowly rose to pursue his way. The Benshee saw 
 this apparition, swerved aside, reared and plunged, 
 and then, before Miriam knew what had happened, 
 bounded across with such a leap that she thought 
 she would never light, and shot like a whirlwind 
 through the miry lane, round a sharp curve into 
 a by-way, over a gate and field that opposed her, 
 till she found herself in another lane, where, 
 putting down her head, heedless of curb and 
 snaffle, first showing a wicked eye, she flung out 
 her flanks with a quiver, and used a pace that 
 only fright and her previous excitement could 
 have aroused. 
 
 Daunted in the first heat, and then resolved on 
 conquering, Miriam kept her seat, knowing the 
 speed could not last ; but at length having taken a 
 
288 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 stony ascent at a gallop and raced down like an ar- 
 row, the Benshee closed as unexpectedly as she had 
 opened her career, and stood trembling, flecked in 
 foam, with hanging head and starting eye. Miriam 
 alighted, loosened the girth, caressed and stroked 
 the animal, using all her limited means to aid it, 
 and dreadfully afraid, even in her pity, that she 
 would lie down and leave her solitary among the 
 moors. Sir Rohan had followed, to be sure, but 
 then he had not been able to put Pharo to a speed 
 anything like that of the Benshee's, and in the 
 bewildering turns and ways followed since, he had 
 lost all track of her, while if she did not succeed 
 in finding the homeward path, she had the pros- 
 pect of spending the night in the lanes. 
 
 Finally she dared to remount and advance very 
 slowly, hesitating long as to which of the two 
 ways that now diverged before her she should 
 choose. She trusted the Benshee, who took the 
 sinister one. It led into deeper and deeper dells, 
 and deceitful sloughs. Hoping it would open on 
 some fairer way she continued to proceed, while 
 the day drew near close, darkness falling round 
 her; and to add to her discomfiture, a drizzling 
 rain set in that brought the night with it. Still 
 
IN THE LANES. 289 
 
 she jogged on, till at last completely at a loss, in a 
 thick gloom, with a wet wind blowing in her face, 
 the Benshee stopped. 
 
 Miriam was not easily discouraged ; but now, 
 after a moment, she bent down to shut out her 
 thoughts, her heart sinking within her. All at 
 once, the wind seemed to be rolled away, and 
 some of the darkness. The Benshee shook and 
 started in terror; something led her, and they 
 went lightly forward. Miriam could see noth- 
 ing, she was more alarmed than ever, droop- 
 ing masses of hair like threaded air seemed to 
 sweep her forehead, she fancied an icy breath 
 licked her cheek, and only cowered closer to 
 the living creature beneath. They emerged into 
 a broader, smoother way, where the wind puffed 
 back, the airy hair, the breath, were gone, and 
 the Benshee sped along as in the day. Far 
 ahead, Miriam now saw a light that burned 
 steadily, while lesser ones danced round it. 
 Anon she lost it, or saw it fainter, and when 
 the Benshee slackened her pace again, she was 
 not many feet distant. Pausing now under the 
 lee of an untrimmed hedge, she found herself in 
 a small hollow quite thickly wooded. One or 
 
 25 g 
 
200 
 
 two carts were tilted around in odd positions, 
 and a rude tent occupied the foreground. There 
 might be others among the trees, but in the 
 faint light cast from the red embers whose 
 flames had been extinguished by the rain, she 
 was not able to discern them. From the tent, 
 voices harsh and low proceeded, but the words 
 were some incomprehensible jargon. Now and 
 then, Miriam thought she heard a more familiar 
 tone, and was at no loss to conclude that she 
 had blundered upon the gypsy encampment. 
 Home, then, lay across the moor, but at which 
 point of the compass ? And how could she 
 reach it, with not even a stone to go by ? The 
 voices rose within the tent. 
 
 " Not a penny," said the familiar one. " Mind 
 you ! I don't pay a farthing. He '11 hand over 
 the hush-money, enough to buy you a farm 
 apiece in Mesopotamia." 
 
 Angry unknown words were here interposed, 
 followed by a lusty English oath from the for- 
 mer speaker. "To be sure he will ! " said he. 
 " You J ve nothing to do but threaten disclosure 
 of what you saw, and what the old woman told 
 you. What good will that do you? Stupid 
 
IN THE LANES. 291 
 
 oufes ! What did I bring you down from be- 
 yond the Lord-knows-where for, but that ? And 
 now you 're here you '11 be quiet ; come to the 
 sea-side for your health, and go back when the 
 season 's over ! And you won't make him pay 
 yellower gold, because, on your way, Tiny 
 was " 
 
 Here a chorus of wild articulations interrupted 
 him, for he seemed to have referred to the man 
 who was hung. 
 
 " Good ! '' he said, when the angry tumult 
 had a little subsided. " I thought the people of 
 the North Countree had more fire than that, and 
 so I find it." 
 
 " You may find it to your cost, brother," said 
 one, in his own tongue. " Now, to waste no 
 more palaver, what must be done ? " 
 
 " Waiting. Is that laconic enough ? There 's 
 one witness yet. I must have the old chap 
 swear to what I learned from him; for if it 
 should have been just drunken raving, I ? m all 
 up a tree ; poor fellow, it was n't much " 
 
 Here the gypsies, from the clatter, appeared to 
 be impatient. " Then I shall come for you," he 
 added, as if waking from a little reverie, " and 
 you can go in and win." 
 
292 
 
 Other words followed, from which the speaker 
 seemed to gather an unfavorable import. 
 
 "You'll forestall me?" he said. "Try it! 
 that 's all. And you '11 lose the whole. Per- 
 haps he will pay you for silence after you 've 
 told ! Do you think I profit by this ? Not a 
 haporth. I get the girl, and hers, as I told 
 you, and what 's more, chew a sweet morsel, 
 you know yourselves, a revenge. But it 's late. 
 I '11 go when your word passes that you '11 
 bide my time." 
 
 Here succeeded a long consultation in that 
 other tongue, interspersed with now and then 
 a bit of English, all which must have been the 
 identical slang wherein Miriam had longed to 
 be a proficient. At last, the stormy voices si- 
 lenced themselves, and one took up the tale. 
 
 " We do as you bid, brother. But hark ye ! 
 You fail us, we donnot fail you. And should 
 we get no share of yon gold, we look to you. And 
 we mun have it though we rob your heart's blood 
 for it ! Good night, brother." 
 
 The tent curtain lifted, and two or three stooped 
 out into the night ; one, an old woman whose 
 voice proclaimed her the v recent speaker, with a 
 
IN THE LANES. 293 
 
 torch that hissed and spluttered in the rain and 
 flared with the wind. As she held it up, the light 
 fell on the departing guest, and Miriam found him 
 to be, as she had at first surmised, Arundel. The 
 old woman lighted him as he climbed the hollow, 
 till he was lost on the land above, and then re- 
 turned, sparkling the torch on an evil-looking tat- 
 terdemalion who stood with her ; on a gypsy girl 
 who held a baby to her breast and peered from the 
 tent with bright black eyes that had the same wild 
 glint, a speck of white fire, that Miriam's owned ; 
 and on her own wrinkled yellow face, picturesque 
 rags, and long, torn gray hair. Just as she was 
 disappearing within, the unaccountable Benshee 
 gave a low whinny. The hag cried to her com- 
 panion, in their own tongue, and turned quickly 
 toward the hedge. 
 
 " What'n have we here ? " she said, hanging 
 over it, and swinging the torch round the head of 
 the dazzled girl. " Alia ! the young Leddy o'- 
 Castle Sin Denys ! Service to you. A fine night 
 for a gallop, the dew just falling. Ye come such 
 sweet weather for a better fortune ? We 're none 
 of the elle-folk who dance in the hills and weave 
 fates, ye mun go to them for that. Maybe ye 'd 
 
 25* 
 
294 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 know what makes you one of us ? Ye 've the 
 wild-fire in your eye, child ! Ye '11 know soon 
 enough ! " Here the hag bent lower, and assum- 
 ing a leer, extended her palm. " Ye cannot 
 thread the lanes with yellow boys about you. A 
 little charity, dear Leddy," she whined. But at 
 the same instant snatched it away, and hit the 
 Benshee a crack that made her rear upright. 
 " Ye listen at a man's door ? Go along with 
 you ! " she said, and the beast flew like a ball of 
 fire. Miriam caught the pommel in her shock, 
 and fled fast, hardly knowing which she dreaded 
 most, the fierce gallop in the dark, or the gypsy 
 man breaking over the hedge. 
 
 In a mile or two the Benshee relaxed her speed, 
 and soon fell into a trot that she gently ended 
 by standing stubbornly still. It seemed in vain 
 to urge her ; Miriam dismounted again, and as 
 well as she could see, led her along in hopes to 
 find some place where she could hitch the bri- 
 dle, and lie down herself. At last a narrow path 
 opened on the right ; she ventured to follow it, 
 and soon found by the slow ascent that she was on 
 the moor. But here she was as good as lost, and 
 after an hour's forlorn wandering, as much from 
 exhaustion as despair she put her arms round the 
 
IN THE LANES. 295 
 
 Benshee's neck and .burst into tears. Suddenly 
 the Benshee raised her head, with her pawing 
 feet warned the girl to retire, and by her tremor 
 seemed to recognize some one's approach. Miriam 
 spoke soothingly through her sobbing, but in the 
 next moment caught herself the tramp of hoofs 
 crushing the heath, aiid clung to the companion- 
 able thing for safety. Far, far away, quite at the 
 other end of the moor it seemed to her, she heard 
 a voice call Miriam! Faint and thin it sounded 
 in her swooning ears ; she doubted could she make 
 her reply audible. " Here I am ! " she thought she 
 cried like a trumpet ; but it was only a murmur, 
 and her head sunk again upon the bent neck of 
 the Benshee. Home, witli its fires and lights and 
 comforts, the smiles, the dear voices one of which 
 she dreamed to have heard just now was further 
 away than ever, was lost; she herself might die; 
 all that love, that joy, was lost too. She was sink- 
 ing on the ground, when an arm caught her waist, 
 strong and tender ; passionate lips called her life 
 back to answer them ; and lifted a moment in the 
 air, she lay then in Sir Rohan's arms, while 
 mounted on Pharo weary from his day-long search, 
 and leading the Benshee, they trotted slowly and 
 joyfully homeward down the moor. 
 
XVII. 
 
 WHETHER OR NO. 
 
 MIRIAM lost and found, was dearer now than 
 ever. Dismayed at the chances that might 
 have befallen, he could scarcely endure her out 
 of his sight. Loving, previously, had heen like 
 living or breathing ; now, it was a positive thing, 
 another existence ; and so precious did it seem, 
 that analyzing, he began to entertain a jealousy 
 of it. 
 
 He knew very well that he always borrowed 
 tone from the nature that had influenced him last 
 and strongest. Thus when his Ghost was his sole 
 companion, he had been fit for such intimacy ; 
 afterward, he had taken St. Denys's genial calm ; 
 and now when Miriam, dancing and iridescent as 
 a foam-flake, met and overpowered him with her 
 exuberant life, he was sentient of wearing the 
 same hues in which she beamed. So that, in fact, 
 
WHETHER OB NO. 297 
 
 she unconsciously saw herself mirrored in him, 
 and with a natural self-love was attracted toward 
 the image. An apotheosis of self-love, truly ; but 
 then, thought Sir Rohan, what more is any other 
 love ? And is not its design and use, perhaps, for 
 the highest development of personality ? Those, 
 then, who have loved, loved in the mad flames 
 that burn away dross and leave the bare edge of 
 self-consciousness welded with that of another, 
 those may die. 
 
 * As a corollary to this idea, not long subse- 
 quently a strange fantasy seized him. Floating 
 with Miriam in his boat, one sail stretched through 
 light and shade, down a small river that he had 
 not navigated for years, and rocking in mid- 
 channel on the broad oily swells of the receding 
 tide, that, compared to the crisp wavelets nearer 
 shore, surrounded them like fields of calm, he 
 suddenly found himself drifting in a current that 
 ran swiftly out among the breakers at the river's 
 mouth, glimpses of whose white plumes he already 
 caught tossing in glee over their approaching 
 prey. The little boat, once among them, would 
 be staved to atoms, wave after wave dashing 
 against it ; the strongest swimmer would only be 
 
298 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 gored and impaled upon those cruel rocks ; while 
 with the effort to free himself, one oar snapped, 
 and he saw it sucked along far in advance. In 
 the midst of his strenuous exertions with the re- 
 maining one, he paused to gaze on the unconscious 
 girl, suffering the boat to drift onward, and think- 
 ing were it not "better both together now to plunge 
 into the vortex of eternity, than that he at some 
 future day, meeting a stronger influence, should 
 cease to reflect her nature, to represent her start- 
 ling characteristics ; should reassume himself, 
 though still cherishing her tenderly, and she, 
 finding the pleasing likeness no longer there, 
 should cease to bestow her love upon that which, 
 having held it, was now to her vacant. A 
 thing, he felt, that might be as natural for 
 her, as for a queen to put on and take off the 
 crown. 
 
 It was not he that experienced change, but cir- 
 cumstance that conquered him ; yet she change 
 was half her beauty. But while he balanced life 
 and chances, Time was meddling with the weights, 
 and the boat settling downward ; and still he 
 gazed at the one whose moments he was number- 
 ing, shuddered at the gaunt image of a day desti- 
 
WHETHER OR NO. 299 
 
 tute of her devotion, and thrilled at he delirious 
 draught of death that it was theirs to quaff in 
 youth should they choose. He knew the wild 
 moment of fear that would snatch her heart away 
 at first; but he also pictured the returning pas- 
 sion when, absorbed in him, she sank down 
 the great gulfs of darkness, while, even should 
 there be no hereafter, they almost eternized 
 this love by its dying strength, soul closing with 
 soul. 
 
 But in this instance, as in others, the instinct 
 for life exceeded the reasoning power, and Sir 
 Rohan, after a struggle, made the shallower water 
 once more, and following the windings of the 
 stream, reached their starting-point at last, in the 
 shades of his unfrequented park, scattering the 
 deer who had trooped to drink in the quiet pools 
 of its lazier flow. 
 
 It was not, however, an agreeable conclusion 
 that had forced itself upon him, that the moment 
 he ceased to present in himself the image of Mir- 
 iam, she would transfer her love to its next shrine, 
 nor was it fealty to her. Neither was it pleas- 
 ant to find himself no relief no cameo but 
 merely a vacuum where other and more glowing 
 
BOO SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 individualities painted themselves. Yet after all, 
 he believed Death would come to him sooner than 
 loss of love. 
 
 In short, it was probably provoking that he had 
 no longer a subject for annoyance. 
 
XVIII. 
 
 REDRUTH SURRENDERS HIS ACCOUNTS. 
 
 4* 
 
 AS Sir Rohan announced his journey and the 
 length of his stay to Redruth, after giving 
 direction for certain repairs and decorations, he 
 added, " When I return, Miss Miriam comes with 
 me. I shall bring my old house a mistress." 
 
 Hardly could he repress his smile at the man's 
 amazement. 
 
 " Dear soul ! " he said. " Then we 're to have 
 a Lady, after all. I knew she never came for 
 naught ! " And for the first time, he dared ap- 
 proach his master on the subject of his conduct in 
 the cellar the day she went away, admitting Ins 
 faults and contrition. But he found that it had 
 already passed from Sir Rohan's mind. 
 
 " We '11 forget that, Redruth," said he. " I 
 may have spoken too harshly ; it was of no con- 
 sequence." 
 
302 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 On entering the housekeeper's room, Mr. Red- 
 ruth found the table spread for tea, and his wife 
 knitting by the fire with her two maids, to whom 
 magisterially he imparted the news. 
 
 " Lady Belvidere ! " exclaimed Mrs. Redruth. 
 " Pretty creatur ! Well, I knew it all along." 
 
 "You knew it?" 
 
 "What, but that, driv him to his fever?" 
 
 "Drove, my dear." 
 
 " Well, drove or driv, it 's all one." 
 
 " To think of her coming into this nest of 
 ghosts ! " said one of the maids. " The poor, 
 orphanless child." 
 
 " But she 's laid them all, Nelly. They have n't 
 walked since she came," replied the other. 
 
 " Indeed, she 's not, Nan. They 've left mas- 
 ter, maybe, but I see 'em, when I went in with 
 the tray, the other night, round that brisk man, 
 the solicitor, What's-his-name, that comes from 
 abroad. And the head-piece was standing right 
 behind him, with her hands down, meek as as 
 anything," concluded Nelly, for want of a better 
 simile. 
 
 "Well for sure, Nell, you ''re a downright sim- 
 pleton ! That was the statute of Venus," said 
 Nan jeeringly. 
 
EBDRUTH SURRENDERS HIS ACCOUNTS. 303 
 
 " Venice ! I guess it is n't that we see every 
 evening, all white and blue, swairthing over the 
 flags out there, that puts me all in a fuz ! Nor 
 the Walker ! It 's not that we hear, whenever the 
 dark falls, come tramp, tramp, tramp, along the 
 hall, with a low whistle 01 a laugh anent the 
 very door, and then tramp, tramp, off again, 
 and the swish and trail of her long dress follow- 
 ing, till back she come with liker a sob, and 
 sweeps the floor all night till cock-crowing, as if 
 the clouds had got into the house and rained 
 steady. It ? s so lonely like near the place." 
 
 " Master must 'a done some thin' awful once, 
 or some of his kin," whispered Nan, shiveringly. 
 
 " Humph ! Miss Miriam may say what she 
 choose. No such thing as bugs round here ! It 
 comes just as near as a fourpence to a groat, if 
 it an't one. That's all." 
 
 " Now, Nell, maybe we was fools, and frightened 
 at master's ways, and took silly things for spirits. 
 There 's the gypsies, who knows ? Maybe it was 
 bats, or moonshine, or clothes on the line " 
 
 " There 's no line there, and there warn't a 
 moon, the gypsies had n't come, and we know 
 bats when we see 'em. Besides, May-bees don't 
 
304 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 fly this time o' year, I Ve heard say. If we was 
 fools, then I know who was the biggest one, that 
 summer night when they ran in cold as stone, eyes 
 all starting out and black roimd about, and mouth- 
 ing, and looking stupid and brutelike ! A body 
 was white as a curd then. I would n't crow be- 
 fore" 
 
 " Hist now, girls ! " said Mrs. Redruth, for it 
 was getting dark. " I never see none I could n't 
 explain away myself, nor I don't believe you have. 
 Did you, Redruth ?" 
 
 " Well," answered Redruth, evasively, " a good 
 many years ago, fifteen sixteen eighteen years 
 ago," one dark night, I saw a light on the lawn, 
 where the white camellia-bush is, and there 's 
 nothing whiter than that when the buds are blown ; 
 they are like stars in a sky " 
 
 " But the lights ? " queried Nell. 
 
 "0, it was only one ; but dancing round 
 high and low, now here, now there, dancing like 
 mad. I should have said, if it had been any- 
 where else, they were thieves with a lantern ; 
 but it could n't be that, you know. One would n't 
 need a lantern to pick the blossoms, though 
 they did look a little soiled next day, and the 
 
BEDRUTH SURRENDERS HIS ACCOUNTS. 305 
 
 earth was a little loose round the tree ; but that 
 might have been the rain, it rained before 
 
 light." 
 
 " Pshaw, Redruth, it was fireflies ! There, 
 we '11 quit the matter, and say no more about 
 it 1 " Whereupon, Mrs. Redruth, snatching her 
 ball from the kitten, proceeded to make tea, 
 and the maids to speculate about the master 
 and his bride. 
 
 But after a few moments Redruth rose and 
 left the gossiping conclave. He felt ill, he said 
 to himself, ill and numb, and must take some- 
 thing to send a shiver over him. The old stew- 
 ard's remedies always lay in the cellar, and 
 thither, with a long glass, he betook himself. 
 
 Mr. Redruth's family from father to son had, 
 for many generations, held much such a posi- 
 tion as he did; and living a somewhat idle and 
 luxurious life, had transmitted to the last weak 
 offshoot of their race, not, indeed, titles and es- 
 cutcheons, but a certain inheritance not liable 
 to be lessened by superintendence of his mas- 
 ter's wines. And if great dynasties run runkly, 
 at last, to insanity, and my lord plumes himself 
 upon his father's gout, if all hereditary traits 
 
 26* T 
 
306 
 
 imply some honorable distinction, I do not know 
 why Mr. Redruth might not boast that no an- 
 cestor of his had ever died but with palsy. Yet 
 so thoroughly had this family identified them- 
 selves with their employers, that it is doubtful 
 if the fact existed among them even as a tradi- 
 tion ; they did not tell their children of their 
 own grandfathers, but of their masters' ; and 
 though Redruth had often feared this catastrophe 
 for himself, he did not once remember it upon 
 this afternoon. He had, furthermore, an engage- 
 ment in the neighboring town, in about an hour. 
 Mr. Arundel, who would be there then, had sent 
 for him to swear to the truth of some statement 
 he had made. He did not know what, exactly, 
 but it had troubled and perplexed him greatly 
 during the day, though Sir Rohan's intelligence 
 had excited him in an opposite direction. More- 
 over, Mr. Redruth was to bring an amaryllis from 
 the town for Miss Miriam, who wanted it in the 
 conservatory, where he had promised her it should 
 be that night; and Mrs. Redruth had ordered a 
 new bonnet lavender and straw which he 
 was to obtain ; and he believed he would consult 
 a physician, while there, on the subject of this 
 faintness. 
 
EEDKUTH SURRENDERS HIS ACCOUNTS. 307 
 
 As Mr. Redruth locked the cellar door and 
 hung the key in its place, the conservatory at- 
 tracted him, as, once before, it had attracted Mir- 
 iam; and quite forgetting the long glass still in 
 his hand, he entered it, and seated himself care- 
 fully in the chair of Madeira wood. It was just 
 after sunset; the honeysuckles, scarlet and yel- 
 low with berries, were still brilliant as the vivid 
 light could make them, where they climbed the 
 house-wall opposite, and the open roof admitted 
 the cool evening breeze. He did not feel much 
 better here, and resolved to wait a short time 
 before meeting his engagements, while he looked 
 about on the enchantments evoked by his mas- 
 ter's fancy, and breathed the exhalations stealing 
 insidiously round him. The light retreated along 
 the wall, ceased sparkling in the glasses of the 
 aerides ; the orchids so full of life in form 
 that he wondered to see them silent lost one 
 by one their gay hues ; the darkness gathered 
 down the alleys and stole upward, leaving noth- 
 ing in distinctness but the always vague figures 
 of the fountain ; heavy perfumes of the nocturnal 
 flowers began to roll through the dusk, and a 
 nightingale to chant his melancholy songs on a 
 
308 SIR BOHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 spray without. The breeze fell, a young moon 
 lay low in the sky, and on the floor of the still 
 air strange new scents evolved themselves and 
 danced gently along. The charm of the hour 
 was perfect. 
 
 The myrtle, collecting the dew 011 its dense 
 masses, faintly impregnated and shook it from 
 white stars glittering in the shade ; the heliotropes 
 drooped purpler, darker, richer, with their most 
 exquisite of atmospheres ; the ophrys, hanging on 
 the cheek of a nectarine like a bee, married that 
 sweetness with its own ; and the odorous jasmine 
 trailed in golden threads over the tempting purple 
 of a ripened redolent fig. The epidendrum, too, 
 woke into life with the night, and tossed him its 
 fragrance, and, still lingering along the year, rose 
 and lily and violet and passion-flower all turned 
 and blew their gales toward him. 
 
 But to these a monarch waved his sceptre. 
 Just above Mr. Redruth's head hung one of the 
 gilded galleries, and over it in riotous profusion 
 the luxuriant vines of a night-blooming cereus 
 suspended its bursting buds. Already its dark 
 brown sheathing parted ; already the great star 
 within rivalled Hesper in yellow brightness ; already 
 
REDRUTH SURRENDERS HIS ACCOUNTS. 309 
 
 the long snowy petals, sailing calmly back, en- 
 hanced its glory, and the multitudinous silky sta- 
 mens tumbled out in a cataract on the wind of an 
 untold sweetness ; opening wider every moment 
 and burdening the whole air with his imperial 
 presence, while by slower culmination others fol- 
 lowed in his train. Mr. Redruth watched it for a 
 while in silence ; the nightingale still sung, the 
 moon cast a soft lustre through the panes upon 
 the spreading wonder, the floating lilies, the great 
 agave beside him. Flowering once in a hundred 
 years, as the superstition ran, why did the anni- 
 versary of this agave come upon this night? 
 Why, sitting there like an old necromancer bound 
 in his own chains, did it draw the little breaths in 
 among its strong leaves, and emit them sickly 
 sweet? why did a strange stir and intelligence 
 rustle all its sides? why but that the spell was 
 loosened, and it flowered to-night. With the 
 blossom dies the stem. Swift as when the sun 
 falls into the west the clouds flout their joyous 
 folds, the arrow of fulfilment struck its heart, and 
 it answered with the weird grand blossom, again 
 flinging magic over the world. But cereus and 
 agave were watched with equal silence by Mr. 
 
310 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 Redruth ; the solicited events of centuries trans- 
 pired unnoticed beside him. He felt ill, he 
 thought, and stupid ; how could he reach town in 
 this plight ? And what would Mr. Arundel do 
 then? And there was the bonnet and the ama- 
 ryllis ; could he but gain an apothecary, he might 
 be better. The time when he had told Miriam the 
 story of Fanchon crept over his memory ; he half 
 smiled at her false prophecy, but he remembered 
 also, though faintly, that he had drank one day 
 with Arundel in the cellar. What had he said to 
 him ? What had that conversation been ? Let it 
 be as it might, he could not recall it, but what 
 did Marc Arundel want with his oath to-night ? 
 
 Mr. Redruth ! the lotus floated in its tank 
 within your reach, the nepenthe lifted its brim- 
 ming pitcher to your lips, the mandragora grew 
 not far away eat them, and forget ! 
 
 Things wavered oddly in a kind of haze before 
 Mr. Redruth' s eyes ; he trembled excessively. 
 There was Miss Miriam's amaryllis to be got. He 
 must make an effort ; and he essayed to rise. It 
 was Atlas with the world on his shoulder ; efforts 
 were vain, he did not stir a line. If he could 
 only stand, he thought, he might walk. The place 
 
REDRUTH SURRENDERS HIS ACCOUNTS. 311 
 
 grew dark, and warm as it was, his teeth chat- 
 tered, he fell back in the chair, still grasping the 
 glass in his hanging hand. The moon shot a fiery 
 tip upon the flowery pendulums in the dome, then 
 withdrew from aloe and cactus, and left all the 
 tropical wealth in a starlit gloom; but Mr. Red- 
 ruth did not observe it, since it had been dark 
 some time with him. His mind became confused ; 
 a doubt crossed it if his stewardship had been 
 faithful, a stinging certainty of evil goaded it. 
 Could that man harm his master ? The veriest 
 trifles buzzed round him ; he was afraid to disap- 
 point Mr. Arundel, he was sorry to disappoint Miss 
 Miriam. 
 
 Strange scenes from his youth long forgotten, 
 now rose before him: the proud hour when he 
 first signed his name as Sir Rohan's steward ; 
 his marriage-day ; the night his son was born. 
 His wife, not as now with cap and spectacles, but 
 young, blue-eyed, and smiling, seemed to sit by 
 his side and hold his hand, while dim shadows of 
 childhood and age held their revels before him. 
 Past and present bore themselves unusually. 
 Tasting the wild honey that, a truant boy, he had 
 sucked from the bugloss horns, he drowned in it 
 
312 
 
 the flavor of his flask. The cheek he had kissed 
 forty years ago still blushed in his remembrance, 
 but the words spoken yesterday, it might be, 
 sounded faint and far ; and feeblest, yet most 
 persistent idea of all, was himself tearing his mas- 
 ter's house in ruins about his head. 
 
 Another hour chimed. He had become torpid, 
 the odd sensation was extending to Jiis mind, he 
 felt too weak to catch at life slipping by. 
 
 What strange things were moving now ? What 
 face with its malignant mirth flashed on him ? 
 He had thought Mr. Arundel would be displeased. 
 And that sad reproachful one, was it his Master ? 
 And were these, proud of duty never neglected, 
 the stern old stewards dead and gone ? But who 
 was this, awful and white, that ruffled his hair 
 and would have made his flesh crawl, fleshless it- 
 self, touching him with so chill a finger, smiling 
 from those cloudy eyes, assuring him silently that 
 he had done well ? In the noiseless tramp of what 
 host was he marching ? What was this darkness 
 around, this light, this freedom, opening to him ? 
 And what were all the phantoms hurrying by, 
 with him in their midst, and sweeping out, out 
 from the place ? The flowers might have cowered 
 
REDRUTH SURRENDERS HIS ACCOUNTS. 313 
 
 beneath a presence weightier than they, while the 
 poisonous growths hailed their lord with bold ceii- 
 sers and blistering dew, then have risen shaking a 
 sweeter air from their cups, because they were 
 alone again. The nightingale ceased singing in 
 the thorns ; the epiphytes fluttered forward to stare 
 at the sleeper ; the pallid gleams from some win- 
 dow now and then filled the conservatory with a 
 ghastly light, and shone upon the old man trem- 
 bling no more, but stiff and white as marble in his 
 chair. 
 
 There was no physician who could help his case. 
 Marc Arundel must come for the oath, since all 
 engagements were broken. Mr. Redruth would 
 not go into town that night. 
 
 Meanwhile, as Death throned himself here, Life 
 was crowned in the house beyond, and the mo- 
 ments rounded in joy. 
 
 Miriam had been riding again with Sir Rohan, 
 and returned, laden with wild fruits like Pomona, 
 was making the night merry with her masquer- 
 ading. Dancing down the vistas of the rooms, 
 her riding-skirt gathered over her arm, laughing, 
 talking, silent, she still transmuted his long hours 
 
 27 
 
3U 
 
 by the simple fact of her companionship. And he, 
 as gay, unconsciously inspired the very gladness 
 that created his own. At length as midnight 
 drew near, she had flown from his grasp, and 
 pausing half-way up, dropped him a good-night 
 song, and flown on again. 
 
 Sir Rohan moved and went out to close the green- 
 house, delaying within to inhale the cool delicious 
 fragrance. The oranges hung their lamps, dwarfed 
 and golden through the soft gloom, near at hand ; 
 stately callas rose waxen-white and spotless, half- 
 guessed, on the other side ; and loose southern 
 vines played with his hair and distilled the air 
 around him. The clear sweet singing of a distant 
 nocturne poured a brief melody through the quiet. 
 He fancied he could see the rare scents, passion- 
 ate, tender, and exhaustless, rolling in globes like 
 smoke from the dropping tubes and shivering 
 sprays. 
 
 But after a time the enjoyment became mingled 
 with another feeling, he recognized something for- 
 eign in the place ; and though he could not detect 
 it, he would have said that the other end of the con- 
 servatory was filled with a misty brightness. He 
 looked about him with a singular thought, for it 
 
BEDRUTH SURRENDERS HIS ACCOUNTS. 315 
 
 appeared, at the moment, that everything he wrote 
 or wrought, be it in pigments or in flowers, spelled 
 but one word the Ghost. 
 
 While thus thinking, Miriam's step broke the 
 stillness, and she entered, with a lamp, from the 
 chiller air, trailing her gown behind her, the 
 plume of her riding-cap a branch of the scarlet 
 berries still clinging to it mingling with her 
 hair, and her face reflecting the brilliance of the 
 scene. 
 
 " Mr. Redruth told me I should find my ama- 
 ryllis here to-night," she said, bringing the frosty, 
 out-door smell with her. " I had nearly forgot- 
 ten. Where do you think he has put it ? Among 
 the lilies ? " and seeking it, she walked slowly for- 
 ward. 
 
 "Do you see the cereus?" she asked, at a dis- 
 tance, in a blaze of exultation. " It is a midnight 
 sun, a whole constellation rather. And 0, Sir Ro- 
 han ! the century is capped, the agave is blown ! " 
 
 Turning slowly with the uplifted lamp, her eye 
 fell, the sparkle faded, her face grew pale again 
 and borrowed the quiet beneath it. 
 
 " But what is this ? " she cried through sudden 
 tears. 
 
316 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 Coming for her amaryllis, she had found the 
 Lily of Annunciation. For the light fell upon Red- 
 ruth silent as a stone, the white hair waving round 
 his brow scarcely less gray, by contrast stiller; 
 the hand hanging over the chair, still grasping the 
 stem of his glass, while the bowl lay shattered on 
 the floor ; the face open-eyed, shrunken, and up- 
 turned with the mute, patient appeal of the dead ; 
 the alabaster rase still there, the flame within 
 burned out ; and the whole cold figure bathed in 
 the richest odors of the world's bright belt, the 
 breath of tangled jungle, brake, and forest, and 
 wrapped in all the gorgeous beauty of the tropics. 
 
XIX. 
 
 THE FACE IN THE FLASH. 
 
 A WEEK crept through the hushed house, 
 and the funeral of Mr. Redruth was held 
 with every honor, a provision settled upon his 
 widow, and his son installed in his place. 
 Shocked, but not deeply touched, which would 
 have been improbable, Miriam's elastic spirits 
 soon regained their equilibrium, and she employed 
 herself to divert Sir Rohan's mind, and dissipate 
 the shadow. She was yet too young and free to 
 own the harvests of sorrow ; nor did she know, if 
 this had been a sorrow admitting such end, how 
 to follow in the wild, and lead up to clearer 
 heights; she would seek, instead, to bring one 
 where he stood before. But Sir Rohan needed 
 little of either treatment. 
 
 It had been scarcely affection so much as cus- 
 tom that bound him to the old steward, and one 
 
 27* 
 
318 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 shrinks at the sudden sundering of any tie. With 
 all his love for his master, Redruth had never 
 been able to endear himself sufficiently to produce 
 a real grief at his loss ; for through fear of offence, 
 he had refused those opportunities which, well 
 used, would have been friendship. The quality 
 we call moral courage is necessary to finished suc- 
 cess, and poor Redruth's life had been a failure. 
 Still Sir Rohan felt that he, also, had owed a duty 
 which he had rejected, and he hoped, proportion- 
 ately with that neglect, to meet his responsibility 
 for the next. He was moved by the old man's 
 affection and sincerity, no less than by his weak- 
 ness, and he knew it would have been monstrous 
 for him to blame a living being. Thus it did not 
 take long to heal the wound, and having been 
 much delayed, the time was once more appointed 
 for their departure. St. Denys assisted his friend 
 in such instruction as the new steward required, 
 and again the hours slipped by too happily for 
 counting, each one like a drop from the fabled 
 elixir of life. 
 
 One only discord jarred upon this period. At 
 the close of a certain day which had fled, like the 
 days of the Blessed Gods, on the vans of inextin- 
 
THE FACE IN THE FLASH. 319 
 
 guishable laughter, a milder mood fell, one of deep 
 quiet and satisfaction. A perfect space where 
 each, aware of the great love in cither's thought, 
 preserves silence regarding it, and glances only on 
 indifferent things. Sir Rohan stood at an open 
 casement, folding Miriam in his arms, and saying 
 little where a lingering kiss or closer pressure 
 brimmed the lapse of happy thought. He did not 
 dream of the surrender St. Denys had made in 
 giving her to him. She was all his own. The 
 past lay veiled and blank behind him, to be re- 
 deemed by a future that could multiply nothing 
 but virtue ; with such blessedness, the seed of that 
 future, into what blossom would it burst ! 
 
 A dry thunder-cloud had swept over the sky, 
 and still tinged with the vanished light, was loftily 
 heaping its cyclopean cumuli in the likeness of 
 rolling petals, as if assuming shape from some 
 huge magnolia growing unseen in the lost Atlan- 
 tis. In its base silent lightnings pavilioned them- 
 selves, now and then leaping to earth with a rosy 
 flare, and giving to all things, as the night grew 
 deeper, a somewhat weird semblance. 
 
 Remaining thus, Sir Rohan remembered the 
 sudden consternation that smote him when first he 
 
320 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 knew of the Ghost ; the awe and heavy fear, anni- 
 hilating doubt and following him like a second 
 shadow ; the stolidity in which he steeled himself 
 till the edge of his terrors was blunted thereat ; the 
 keen watchfulness of intervening years harassed 
 by her influence that bred only a ceaseless pain 
 which he learned to endure ; the frantic spasms of 
 that season which had fevered him. He remem- 
 bered all those hours, and compared them with this 
 where he stood calm and whole, throbbing only 
 with joy, and possessing the cordial of his trans- 
 udation, sovereign, sweet, and inexhaustible. He 
 wondered if without the past he could have meas- 
 ured the present ; he chafed only that these mo- 
 ments were not immortal, or that together they 
 might not slip the knot of life and wander free 
 through fields of eternity too narrow to drain 
 such love. 
 
 In the swift gleams he looked down at Miriam, 
 her face on his arm, her lids fallen, glowing, 
 dreaming, smiling, finding heaven with him as he 
 with her ; and in a stiller, intenser love he bent 
 above her till she raised the languid splendor of 
 her eyes and returned that passionate inspection. 
 
 Other flashes shot across them there, but if the 
 
THE FACE IN THE FLASH. 321 
 
 sky had shrivelled up, so that it left these two they 
 would have been regardless ; and Miriam in Sir 
 Rohan's embrace at the open casement, her eyes 
 dropping in the old bewitching way as the long 
 succeeding kiss died into peace, did not see the 
 object that, when Sir Rohan raised his head, in a 
 more vivid sheet struck his sight and faded in the 
 darkness rushing back. It was the head and 
 shoulders of a man leaning one arm upon a horse's 
 neck, and turned toward them. Was it some 
 nightmare, or one of those allies of the Ghost, man 
 and beast, staring at him out of the shadow ? 
 Was it that eldritch vision of Marc Arundel, that 
 had so persecuted him with her other malicious 
 enginery ? Or was it the real face of Marc Arun- 
 del, white and ghastly in the lightning, and full of 
 rancorous hate ? 
 
 Whatever it might have been, it was withdrawn 
 at the next flash ; but notwithstanding, Sir Rohan's 
 tranquillity was at an end, swimming in a sea of 
 rapture, he had suddenly touched shore. 
 
 But when morning again poured light into 
 night, and Miriam met him, fresh and gay as a 
 new creation, he forgot the face and its terrors, 
 and again relinquished himself to the spell. 
 
322 
 
 A flock of pigeons mufflers, rufflers, fantails, 
 and tumblers came fluttering and pitchpoling 
 down from the roofs and gables into the old gar- 
 den, catching the sunshine in a thousand dainty 
 irises, while they were at breakfast. 
 
 " Paphiaii doves ? " asked St. Denys mischiev- 
 ously, tossing them some crumbs. 
 
 "And so you must have your fling at them ! " 
 retorted Miriam. 
 
 " At them ? By no means. They don't do all 
 the billing and cooing in the house." 
 
 " A noise that annoys some folks." 
 
 " Love is so pathetic to a third, you find, St. 
 Denys." 
 
 " Especially to a minor third," assented St. 
 Denys. 
 
 " Not so pathetic as sympathetic," Miriam sub- 
 joined. " I tremble lest your example incite 
 papa to match it." 
 
 "0 no," said St. Denys. "I'm content to 
 match you." 
 
 " How brilliant you are ! " said Sir Rohan. 
 " Have you drugged the coffee ? " 
 
 " Your untouched cup looks as if it were a 
 drug. No -, but I made it ! There, papa, poor 
 
THE FACE IN THE FLASH. 323 
 
 man, that caps the climax ! Shrug your shoulder 
 and remember nature's not to be conquered; vines 
 that twist from right to left can't be made to twist 
 from left to right. The duckling takes to water, 
 or, what is worse, coffee, and the pursuer takes 
 a ducking ! " 
 
 " Miriam, have some mercy ! " answered the 
 horrified listener. " You grow worse as you grow 
 older." 
 
 " And you don't fancy my bad-iii-age ! I shall 
 make a gooseberry fool next, or put my ill-breed- 
 ing into a tart, that I may be reproved accord- 
 ingly." 
 
 " Certainly, I have spoiled you." 
 
 " Which is not my treatment of the coffee. I 
 wanted some cafS noir, and, besides, Sir Rohan 
 takes no breakfast, and who knows the magical 
 effects of the potent berry ? Confess that it 
 needed oriental hands to brew, and an acquaint- 
 ance with continental kitchens prior to one with 
 Mrs. Redruth's. All a part of my gypsydom. Ah, 
 you should have taken better care of me ; here I 
 graduate, a cook. But why should n't one make 
 nectar ? Look at this clear stream, pactolian, yel- 
 low as amber and aromatic as Arabia ! " 
 
324 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 " Aurum potabile," annotated Sir Rohan. 
 
 " Translated shabbily, for euphony, gold makes 
 the pot boil. I 've heard now of old ladies put- 
 ting brandy or rum into their tea, but never into 
 coffee." 
 
 " 0," groaned St. Denys. " Must I repeat 
 every day how vulgar it is " 
 
 " Well ? How vulgarities what ? " 
 
 " Incorrigible child ! " said Sir Rohan. " No- 
 body less severe than a pundit from the Punjaub 
 will punish you properly for making such a Pun- 
 chinello of yourself." 
 
 " Et tu Brute ! " she returned, poising her fra- 
 grant cup. 
 
 " Similia similibus." 
 
 " And have you come over into Macedonia ? 
 But with what a philippic ! A conjunction which 
 calls to mind Philippi, which calls to mind the 
 ghost that came to Brutus, which calls to mind, 
 like a chapter in Numbers, a little odd dream I 
 dreamed last night, papa. I thought I was stand- 
 ing at a window, being as small as children are 
 when they cry for the moon, and looking up I was 
 trying to make out the face in its desolate circle, 
 when very clearly and distinctly it became Marc's ; 
 
THE FACE IN THE FLASH. 325 
 
 upon which I was frightened, and after the absurd 
 conduct of dreams tried to get down, nobody 
 knowing how I got up, wherewith he began to 
 sing, the idea, now, of Marc's singing ! sing 
 the last line of that little Kentish song I used to 
 go to sleep by, 
 
 ' Wait till I come to thee ! ' 
 
 And I woke up with the great silent flash skim- 
 ming over the sky from some distant ship's gun, 
 I suppose, hailing a pilot for the channel, or some- 
 thing. But was n't it hateful ? " 
 
 " Yery. Biit the moon is made of green cheese, 
 you know, which produces indigestion, which pro- 
 duces nightmare, after your manner of induction 
 and a certain luncheon of yestreen." 
 
 " Dear me, papa, I don't know whose quibbles 
 are worse." 
 
 " What are you going to do, child ? What is that 
 basket for, and those napkins ? and are you the 
 whole commissariat for an army, with such a bat- 
 tery of bread and butter ; or playing Charlotte to 
 nobody's Werter ? " 
 
 " My amazed papa, what an inquiring disposi- 
 tion ! How am I to answer such a mouthful of 
 
 28 
 
326 
 
 questions ? Did you ever hear of a picnic ? but 
 off at Abbey ruins, or mineral springs, or ultra- 
 montane forests ? Well, I I, too, shall have a 
 picnic, to-day ; but at lesser ruins, a fete cham- 
 petre under aged lichen-painted walls, at the foot 
 of this dear old garden ; by the choked spring that 
 gurgles and sputters and sings and frolics to itself, 
 whose water drunk from hollow leaves shall afford 
 us infinite hilarity ; and you and Sir Rohan are 
 to be my guests, and I accept no excuse, and your 
 only roof is to be blue sky till said roof is gray 
 as twilight, and we will make one veritable long 
 Autumn day too short to hold us. Here is the 
 first chicken that peeped in May, he plays Wer- 
 ter well enough ; and here is the tart I spoke 
 of; and here is a bottle of poison for you, and one 
 of cream for me ; and see these brown pears, 
 which Midas rex has fingered, and these Hamburg 
 grapes, great Cleopatrian pearls and amethysts. 
 Come ! 
 
 The sweet sad autumn days will we 
 
 Make gay with blithe carousin', 
 Till Mirth's most merry companie 
 
 Shall seek our hearts to house in ! " 
 
 And therewith, to roulade and capriccio, the 
 
THE FACE IN THE FLASH. 327 
 
 imperious Miss Miriam swept the helpless gentle- 
 men through the casement whose threshold re- 
 mained uncrossed till sunset, while every now 
 and then chimes of gayest laughter and snatches 
 of sweetest singing pealed hurriedly up the alleys 
 and startled the pale chrysanthemums and wither- 
 ing autumn flowers on their sad stems ; uncared-for 
 rusty blossoms, wan and rapt as a Greek chorus, 
 who looked at each other with melancholy sur- 
 prise and then drooped heavily again, as if they 
 were long ago in the secret, and refused to listen 
 to this last artifice of fate, the echo of a fragmen- 
 tary happiness as brief as shallow. 
 
XX. 
 
 THE CLANG OF HOOFS. 
 
 AT length their stay drew toward its close ; 
 the last day was fading, and Sir Rohan, hav- 
 ing given his final orders, was idly pacing the 
 hall, and longing for Miriam. He had no impa- 
 tience now, for every hour answered to itself, too 
 full of happiness to be hastened. 
 
 Miriam, whose voice woke the morning, carol- 
 ling from her open window, and every now and 
 then filled the dreary walls again with a glad 
 purling, came singing down the stairs ; and then, 
 hanging on his arm as he continued his walk, 
 finished the strain. 
 
 Somewhere the long grass over lonely graves 
 
 Sobs in the rain. 
 Somewhere the wild wind vainly o'er them raves 
 
 Who cease from pain. 
 Somewhere, thro' weary years, one weeps, whose salt slow tears 
 
 Fall for refrain. 
 
THE CLANG OF HOOFS. 329 
 
 " I wonder," she said, after a moment's si- 
 lence, " why always, when we are happiest, we 
 choose the saddest songs." 
 
 " Perhaps," he replied, " to forestall calamity ; 
 to deceive Fate with a counterfeit." 
 
 "For a charm against Sorrow, you mean?" 
 
 " Sorrow ! Sorrow ! My darling, forget there 
 is such a word ! " 
 
 " You will never let me feel it," she responded. 
 
 " The wind shall not blow upon you ! " he 
 said, with fervency, followed by a laugh. 
 
 " And you take the windward side, Ungal- 
 lant? No, no," she added, "if they were 
 charms, all people might be gay, since who 
 could n't string a necklace of such amulets ? 
 I am more inclined to fancy my happiness a 
 cuckoo who pushes the sad little songs from 
 the nest." 
 
 " Vile comparison ! Is it so false and fickle ? " 
 
 " That, sir, will be as you please." 
 
 " Ah, sweet ! " he said. " You know there is 
 no heaven too high for me to sphere you there. 
 That is, provided one had the ordering of the 
 planets." 
 
 " Thank you, but earth is very well. Do you 
 
 28* 
 
330 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 know, Sir Rohan," she continued, naively, "I 
 think you love me too much." 
 
 "Miriam!" 
 
 " Yes. There ! there ! Don't look at me so ! 
 "Was I very wrong to say it ? " 
 
 " The Easterns worshipped the sun, source of 
 fire, scatterer of night. Haven't I good prece- 
 dent for my adoration ? " 
 
 " But I mean that if I should die, I think you 
 would die too." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " My dear ! What do I wear this crown of 
 laurel for ? " 
 
 " Because you are a Queen, perhaps." 
 
 " Not at all. Because when my Love returns 
 to his Art, I believe he wreathes himself with 
 the same immortal boughs; but should he die, 
 what laurel for him?" 
 
 "He would not need it then." 
 
 " One takes such even into death." 
 
 "How sweet a scent your crown has, when 
 bruised ! " 
 
 "It is poison, nevertheless," she rejoined. 
 
 "Why wear it, then?" 
 
 " Why ? For an emblem. There is poison in 
 so strong love." 
 
THE CLANG OF HOOFS. 331 
 
 " Your lecture is charming, your lips perfect. 
 You may convert a Pariah, but never a Brahmin, 
 never a High-Priest. Miriam, should you leave 
 me, my love would grow praying for your return, 
 and every word you speak makes you dearer ! " 
 
 "I see," she exclaimed, as they entered the 
 drawing-room, and sat together by St. Denys, 
 "I see, clearly, my authority is to be absolute. 
 So I enjoin my first behest." 
 
 "Yes, Miriam. Give me a command," he 
 said, bending forward with his eyes upon her. 
 
 "You are never, never," she replied, archly, 
 holding her finger before him, " to paint when I 
 am away ! " 
 
 " Bathos, pathos, and immutable as Athos," he 
 interposed. 
 
 " No ! that 's too much," she continued, heedless 
 of the remark. " We '11 add a codicil to our will ; 
 not for a long, long while, that is. You shall 
 dream no more dreams." 
 
 "Jealous ?" 
 
 " Not I," she said, with a melodramatic air. 
 " I scorn it. I '11 be jealous of a real rival." 
 
 " A woman's love, sir, is an absorption," said 
 St. Denys, glancing over his paper. " A sponge, 
 
332 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 you must learn, that wipes out every one else. 
 Her love is to have no one loved but herself." 
 
 " papa, what a libel ! It must be one's self, 
 and not one's lover, one loves when jealous." 
 
 " Right, little dame ! I see, Rohan, by the 
 news, Arundel contests his borough. What 
 next ? " 
 
 " Perfect love," said Miriam, still meditating, 
 " implies perfect trust. And we have that, dear," 
 she whispered. 
 
 Sir Rohan did not reply, but always clasping 
 her, remained in thought. Slowly again his eyes 
 re-sought hers, the fond exulting smile wreathing 
 his lips as he felt the quickening throbs of her 
 heart at his returning gaze. 
 
 " It is a singular thing, this joy," said he. " It 
 makes me tremble ; it seems unnatural. I have 
 heard of people of great faith as suddenly feeling 
 their spirituality wonderfully increased, and of 
 others w^ho experienced unaccountable mirthful- 
 ness, or happiness, or strength. But Death or 
 some great suffering always supervened," he added 
 with a shudder. 
 
 " I wonder why," said Miriam. 
 
 " Perhaps the soul," said St. Denys, " always 
 
THE CLANG OF HOOFS. 333 
 
 goes a little faster than life, a little beyond the 
 fact; and so, having beat out and reached its 
 mortal bars, surges back and flows with a double 
 current over the mood of the hour." 
 
 The light was slowly dying, and they fell into 
 silence, the delicious silence of passion, more afflu- 
 ent than endearments. It was only broken by the 
 distant clang of hoofs. 
 
 At first far off, the quick sharp strokes struck 
 nearer and nearer, like a clock measuring off the 
 time. Here they clattered over a stony cause- 
 way, and now were muffled intermittently as the 
 flail of a thresher. On the soft soil of the avenue 
 the sound ferried the silence, like the fleet dip of 
 an oar against the thole. They all sat listening, 
 while it broke their dream ; each beat fell distinct 
 as a knell, and no one stirred till it was close upon 
 them. 
 
 " It is Arundel," said Miriam then, starting to 
 her feet. " I don't want to see him ! Papa, do 
 you mind entertaining him ? And we will go 
 out through the dining-room into that garden. I 
 like that dim old garden, and the night begins to 
 fall." 
 
 " Don't keep Sir Rohan out too long," returned 
 
334 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 St. Denys, as she was disappearing. " Remember 
 he still needs strength, Marc says." 
 
 Sir Rohan hesitated a moment. A singular 
 idea of honor had restrained him from mentioning 
 Arundel's murderous attempt, and this was leav- 
 ing St. Denys at his mercy. 
 
 " You are apprehensive of mischief? " asked St. 
 Denys. " You are Marc's neighbor, know his 
 tricks, and would put me on my guard ? Miriam 
 told you, I believe, of some game presented us 
 the morning we left here. That was well enough, 
 had it not been bagged in the wood, while the shot 
 pierced my coach, an impossible way of killing 
 two birds with one stone. He was as much sur- 
 prised as anybody, probably. Don't fear for me, 
 Rohan : I can take care of Marc ; he is poor ma- 
 terial for a villain. Besides he may have some 
 business with me relative to Miriam ; he has 
 hinted as much." 
 
 Miriam ran back at Sir Rohan's delay. 
 
 " Papa, is it too cruel to tire you with staying 
 here alone ? " she said, putting her arms round 
 his neck, and hiding her blushing cheek. " But 
 I can't help showing him how happy I am, and I 
 would hardly like to, you know." 
 
THE CLANG OF HOOFS. 335 
 
 He parted her dropping hair, and raising the 
 head, gently kissed her forehead before she danced 
 away again. 
 
 In after life, when Miriam, free from the rapid 
 vehement tumult of her youth, led St. Denys down 
 the slopes of a calm old age, in a world of quiet 
 peace where neither old sorrows nor future joys 
 obtruded, she was glad that on this night, in the 
 midst of her delights, at the high tide of her hap- 
 piness, she had not forgotten him. 
 
XXI. 
 
 THE GHOST. 
 
 IT was nearly two hours later, when Miriam 
 and Sir Rohan approached the house from 
 the shore and paused at the foot of the lawn, 
 near the white camellia-bush where he had seen 
 her crowned with azalias. As they left the 
 strand, a dun glare shone upon the wild sky, 
 and the waves, so shortly since gray and dimly 
 foam-capped, tossed like fanged serpents in the 
 fiery light of their enchantress who, gathering 
 as a magnet great vapors round her, rolled 
 veiled and angry, her glimmering rack up the 
 great obscurity. 
 
 They paused now, because Arundel was leav- 
 ing the door. He observed them, however, and 
 drew near, with an extinguished cigar in his 
 hand. 
 
 If a voice had whispered by his ear, " Be still. 
 
THE GHOST. 337 
 
 Do not murder pity ; do not destroy remembrance. 
 Take mercy for a staff. You hate him? But 
 see ! that swift blood ebbs in hectics ; these frosts 
 work like fire ; he is weaker to-day than yester- 
 day ; his disease consumes him surely ; this de- 
 ceitful decline delivers him to death. Can you 
 not suffer Miriam to mourn a lover ? Must you 
 needs poison grief; make tears a sin; turn joy 
 to disgust; stab the memory of love? Take 
 mercy, you are free so soon " Had such a 
 voice whispered, it would have been hushed in 
 the imperious " Speak now ! " of his will ; because 
 the last was destiny. 
 
 " I have been giving St. Denys the heads of 
 that story I promised you, Miss Miriam," said 
 he, after wishing them good evening. "And, if 
 you like, you shall have it as well, since I may 
 not be able to come again immediately." 
 
 Miriam glanced at Sir Rohan to see if he were 
 protected from the damp. But he wore a cloak, 
 and it was not a cold evening. 
 
 " Go on," she replied, with a nod. " We at- 
 tend." 
 
 " It 's not a long story," he said, walking to 
 and fro before them. " 0, by the way ! Some 
 
 29 v 
 
338 
 
 time since, it occurred to me I might be of ser- 
 vice to you in the line of my profession, by elu- 
 cidating your mystery, Miss Miriam, if I had any 
 clew. I intimated as much to St. Denys, who 
 asked you what was that last whisper of your old 
 nurse. And you said, he tells me " 
 
 " That the ring my dying mother wore was 
 hid beneath the seventh stone in the court-yard 
 of the Tower," Miriam replied quickly, not choos- 
 ing to hear the words from him. 
 
 " Exactly so. That the ring your mother wore, 
 when dying, was buried in a book beneath the 
 seventh stone from the gateway of the Tower. 
 I wished to ascertain if I were quite correct. 
 However, that's not my story. 
 
 " You must know," continued Arundel, stoop- 
 ing to pluck a blade of grass, " that the way in 
 which I learned these facts for they are true, 
 Miss Miriam has in it some dash of the super- 
 natural. I first received a suspicion from certain 
 ways and actions of a person whom I met; and 
 putting together one thing and another, remem- 
 bering old county scandal ; questioning somebody 
 who had reason to be acquainted with the matter ; 
 detecting a likeness ; and as I became more in- 
 
THE GHOST. 339 
 
 terested, visiting the various localities and obtain- 
 ing further and satisfactory information from the 
 original sources, I soon made out a complete 
 case. But through it all, I have felt as if some 
 one were directing me ; the right thing turned up 
 at the right time, so that not a moment has been 
 lost, and I could almost swear that I have been 
 assisted by some extraordinary and inexplicable 
 agency." 
 
 " 0, charming," said Miriam, " a ghost in it ! " 
 " Well, to begin. It appears that several years 
 ago, before you were born, and I was but a 
 child myself, two boys left school for the Uni- 
 versity. No matter for dates or names, just yet ; 
 
 facts hold good for John as for Peter. They 
 were warm friends, notwithstanding a slight dif- 
 ference in their years ; for one, the elder was a 
 quiet cheerful boy, and was attracted, perhaps, 
 by the recklessness and brilliance of the other. 
 This other had a species of heroism about him, 
 
 so it was called, a flashing, uncertain element, 
 but no more resembling the real thing than a 
 will-o'-the-wisp resembles that solid red heart of 
 a burning back-log. That is to say, he would go 
 through fire and water to do some famous deed, 
 
340 
 
 but I doubt much if he 'd have held an umbrella 
 over an old woman with a shabby bonnet. Posi- 
 tively, I think he was a sorry fellow. However, 
 the bigger boy saved him many a flogging, and he, 
 in return, rendered him some important service, 
 besides correcting his Greek exercises and writ- 
 ing his Latin verses. And so, fast friends, they 
 left, as I said, for the University. The younger 
 had been an orphan two or three years when they 
 took their degrees, and the other was now, also, to 
 receive possession of his estate ; to which, accord- 
 ingly, having been put through the mill, they went 
 down together ; and in the press of business that 
 met the heir, it is not at all strange that he was 
 obliged to leave his friend much alone. 
 
 " One of the tenants on this estate was a 
 woman between fifty and sixty in age, who held a 
 tolerably good reputation, though more than once 
 accused of too great intimacy with the gypsies and 
 strolling women ; some thought she had come out 
 from them. Still she was honest, and paid her 
 rent, but had not much to say to her neighbors, 
 who called her, on the whole, odd. She was a 
 widow, and lived alone with a grand-daughter, a 
 pretty girl, no, something more than pretty, 
 
THE GHOST. 341 
 
 far too elegant and graceful for the peasants she 
 herded with. Wandering round the region, in 
 the absences of the other, the younger friend, as 
 may be supposed, frequently met this girl. He 
 was a likely-looking youth himself, was rich, 
 and a gentleman. She was beautiful, impassioned, 
 yielding, in short, they fell in love. Finally, the 
 gentleman drew his visit to a close, left his unsus- 
 pecting friend, returned home for a day or two, 
 and then went to a place he had in quite another 
 part of the country. 
 
 " At the same time, the girl disappeared. Her 
 grandmother concealed her surprise, and gave out 
 that she was visiting in a distant town. Nobody 
 believed her, but then nobody said so. Yet when 
 the gentleman entered his residence at the North, 
 he was accompanied by a lady, who has been 
 described to me as the sweetest impersonation of 
 beauty that ever crossed threshold. She was 
 dressed, I am told, with great richness, and wore 
 her splendor as an inheritance, but scarcely 
 seemed to be his wife. They held no communica- 
 tion with any one, employed only such servants as 
 were indispensable, and were totally wrapped in 
 the pleasure of each other; they were never 
 
 29* 
 
342 SIR ROMAN'S GHOST. 
 
 found apart, and appeared to be insensible of the 
 existence of others. Sometimes in a skiff they 
 were seen rowing up the stream ; sometimes the 
 farmer heard a rash bold galloping, and they 
 dashed by like a flash, with their gay laughs chas- 
 ing behind ; sometimes, by moon or star-light, 
 they climbed the old Tower together and watched 
 the prospect. It was a life of rich merriment and 
 exultation, that, half repressed, burst into bright 
 coruscations fanned by gusty glee, a life bathed 
 with delight and youth, he rejoicing in the blaze 
 of her beauty, she revelling in adoration. I hope 
 I 'm not growing sentimental, Miss Miriam." 
 
 "You speak with unction, sir," she replied. 
 " And then ? " 
 
 " Why, nothing then, or soon. The sweetness 
 cloyed. From a passion, I believe, the lover made 
 it a study ; but the intricate psychology baffled or 
 wearied, he became indifferent. They were met 
 no more together; he rode all day among the 
 hills, alone ; she was seldom seen at all. Her 
 beauty began to fall away, eye and cheek were 
 hollow, lips were pale. But latterly, before her 
 unhappiness began, she had once or twice spoken 
 with a cottager; the little children tumbling in 
 
THE GHOST. 343 
 
 her path had received a smile, already somewhat 
 sad ; kind donations, constant charities, were felt 
 by the neighboring poor. Their hearts instinc- 
 tively warmed to the lady, who was to be pitied 
 if happy, how much more if not ! and it was no 
 great while before the keen eyes of these good farm- 
 women detected the cause of her change. But 
 one evening, at about this time, she entered the 
 nearest habitation, and asked that the son might 
 be allowed to go to a distant place she mentioned, 
 with a certain message, and she gave him a roll of 
 gold pieces to deliver and pay his way. They 
 noticed that she wore but one ring, a brilliant 
 thing, on the hand where should have been the 
 marriage ring. Of course he went with expedi- 
 tion, and when he returned the grandame came 
 with him. When they met, said my informant, 
 the lady only fell on her neck and wept, and went 
 away without a word. Perhaps she hoped to re- 
 gain her fair face and happiness when her child 
 was born. 
 
 " So time went on, and the poor lady sat sigh- 
 ing her youth away in the dark room of the 
 Tower. You are cold, Miss Miriam?" 
 
 Miriam had shivered as the moon, running out 
 
344 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 on the skirts of a long cloud, sparkled at some 
 glittering object Arundel held. 
 
 " no," she said. " Go on." 
 
 Her hood had dropped upon her shoulder ; she 
 stood attending with a pitying air, a creature all 
 radiance, and bliss, and blushing life, turning 
 every now and then her flaming eyes and tender 
 smile upon Sir Rohan. 
 
 With the narration, Sir Rohan had more than 
 once started and flung away her hand, but as 
 quickly seized it again, though his own was corpse- 
 cold, and bent his burning glance on her alone, 
 while it proceeded, for it seemed to him that his 
 Ghost stood victorious with her hosts behind Arun- 
 del. His cap had fallen back, and the hair upon 
 his brow was damp ; his cloak, too, was hanging 
 loosely, but in bronze-like, motionless folds ; his 
 eyes gleamed like caverns poiiring forth floods of 
 light ; his face grew paler at every breath in the 
 flying light of the chill November moon. And as 
 the wild palpitations of his heart died -out, the 
 shadow of a statue was not more rigid than he. 
 
 " It is not long," said Arundel, again. 
 
 " One day toward sunset, the lover came into 
 this dark room where the wretched lady sat. She 
 
THE GHOST. 345 
 
 had been looking listlessly at the illuminations of 
 a manuscript, which, he had often told her, a 
 monk, rather given to poetry than more orthodox 
 scripture, had spent his lifetime in decorating. 
 This monk had been a contemporary of Spenser, 
 and an ancestor of the lover's ; and so when, 
 through some pique, he went into a cloister on the 
 continent, he had taken his friend's book too. I 
 have seen it since myself, Sir Rohan. A curious 
 thing: on one side of the parchment, the verses 
 copied fair, in garlands of flowers and leaves, with 
 bright-feathered birds among the vines ; on the 
 other, the pictures, in Armenian blue, vermilion, 
 and gilding. Here, 
 
 ' A troupe of Faunes and Satyres far away 
 Within the wood were dauncing in a rownd.' 
 
 " There, teaching that ' rude, mishapen, mon- 
 strous rablement,' the fairest Una sat, c straunge 
 lady, in so straunge habiliment.' There, too, the 
 image of that man of hell, that calls himself De- 
 spayre, sitting on the ground of his dark, dole- 
 ful, dreary den, with hollow eyes and gaunt cheeks 
 half hid by griesly locks ; the one whose subtile 
 tongue like dropping honey melteth into the 
 
346 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 heart, you know, and who counsels the Red Cross 
 Knight : 
 
 ' Is not short payne well borne, that bringes long ease, 
 And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grave ? 
 Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas, 
 Ease after warre, death after life, does greatly please,' 
 
 the Knight listening < as he were charmed with in- 
 chaunted rimes,' while the carle cries, 
 
 ' Death is the end of woes : Die soone, O Faries sonne ! ' 
 
 " Again, the gateway of the Bowre of Bliss, 
 
 ' Archt over head with an embracing vine, 
 Whose bounches hanging downe seemd to entice 
 All passers-by to taste their lushious wine, 
 And did themselves into their hands incline, 
 As freely offering to be gathered ; 
 Some deepe empurpled as the hyacine, 
 Some as the rubine laughing sweetely red, 
 Some like faire emeraudes, not yet well ripened : 
 And them emongst some were of burnisht gold, 
 So made by art to beautify the rest, 
 Which did themselves emongst the leaves enfold/ 
 
 Or yet the damsel bathing in the fountain, as she 
 loosens the golden knot of hair over ivory should- 
 ers, and 
 
 ' Withall she laughed, and she blusht withall, 
 That blushing to her laughter gave more grace, 
 And laughter to her blushing.' 
 
THE GHOST. 347 
 
 " Here the face of Belphcebe shone out, where 
 ' upon her eyelids many graces sate.' And yon- 
 der, the Masque of Cupid fills space after space 
 with splendid emblazonry ; and still further on, 
 Colin Clout ('Who knows not Colin Clout?') 
 pipes to his Lovely Lass circled by the 
 
 ' Hundred naked maidens lily white 
 All raunged in a ring, and dauncing in delight.' 
 
 A real work of art, Miss Miriam, though strange 
 tasks for a monk. I have given it to St. Denys." 
 
 " I shall see it, then. But what has this book 
 to do with the lady ? " 
 
 " I had quite forgotten. The lady had it in her 
 weary hand, but was not thinking of it. She must 
 have been a sad picture herself, with her heartache. 
 Perhaps he remembered, at the instant, what she 
 was, not a year before, and contrasted the laugh- 
 ing, joyous siren he had met, with the sad woman, 
 faded and forlorn, sacrificed for him. So he spoke 
 tenderly, and called her to walk by the river-bank 
 on which the Tower stood. She obeyed, but with 
 a heavy step and slow movement, all her light 
 alacrity lost ; besides, she was not well ; and he 
 hastened her sharply. They were standing on the 
 
348 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 brink, the book still in her hand, when, it may be, 
 encouraged by so faint a glimpse of her old sun- 
 shine, she summoned heart, and told him the 
 secret he had never guessed. 
 
 " It was a too legible writing of his sins. Harsh 
 words followed, a blow, perhaps, I will not say, 
 for whether fallen, or dashed aside, in a mo- 
 ment more she was sweeping down the tide, with 
 a small penknife, that he always carried, fixed in 
 her bosom. As for him, he re-entered the Tower, 
 paid and dismissed the servants, locked the door, 
 and rushed away. Nor has that door been opened 
 since." 
 
 Arundel, in his cruel dalliance, paused again to 
 look at his auditors, ere resuming. 
 
 While he listened, almost divining each word 
 before its utterance, Sir Rohan had seemed to per- 
 ceive a fiery vapor rising from the earth and flow- 
 ing, like a wall, around himself and Miriam ; but 
 she, unconscious and intent, looked only on the 
 ground. 
 
 " And the lady ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, you are interested, I see. The lady was 
 not drowned; don't start for her hair had 
 caught in a floating branch, and the current land- 
 
THE GHOST. 349 
 
 ed her some half-mile further down, where she 
 was found by the farmer and his son, and taken to 
 the cottage. And the stab proved to be merely a 
 scratch. Revived with difficulty, she spoke in 
 broken sentences with her grandame now and 
 then, chiefly of these occurrences ; took her lov- 
 er's ring from her finger, directing it to be re- 
 stored ; and lived only long enough to give birth 
 to a child, whose father never knew of its exist- 
 ence ; a daughter, whom the woman carried down 
 to Kent, where it was adopted by the gentleman of 
 whom I have already spoken. By St. Denys." 
 
 " Marc ! " cried Miriam, springing forward. 
 But Sir Rohan's grasp was on her arm like iron. 
 
 " A moment, Miss Miriam. The grandame did 
 not obey the lady's direction respecting the ring, 
 but concealed it ; and after turning over one or 
 two stones, I found it, together with the knife, 
 whose point was rusted with a brown stain. I 
 found it in that mouldy book beneath the seventh 
 stone from the gateway. You shall see it directly. 
 There is only one word more. 
 
 "I have fancied the silent old woman driving 
 night and day, with the dreadful burden lying in 
 the cart behind her. For before going to Kent she 
 
 30 
 
350 SIR ROHAN'S GHOST. 
 
 took the dead lady and carried her the long jour- 
 ney to the other place of the lover. There were 
 always plenty to assist her. He was not there, 
 however ; but she buried her by night at the foot 
 of a camellia-bush, and left her vengeance with it. 
 You are standing on the spot, Sir Rohan ! " 
 
 So saying, Arundel took a taper from a box in 
 his pocket, and kindling it at his boot, held the 
 ring beneath the little light, toward Miriam. 
 
 It was a broad gold hoop, of old workmanship, 
 supporting a violet composed of amethysts and 
 azure enamel ; in its centre lay a large, sparkling 
 diamond engraven with a singular device. Some 
 lapidary, in a narrow home of European cities, had 
 perhaps spent his prime upon the precious toil, cut- 
 ting it by dawn and sunset, and retouching it at 
 starlight. This antique intaglio presented a fe- 
 male figure holding in one hand a distaff, the flax 
 from which, as she had spun it out, she had sport- 
 ively wound about her. But the filament had 
 snatched itself from her hand while she laughed, 
 and had writhed round in the frightful contortions 
 of a serpent, drawing, each moment, a longer 
 length from the distaff to coil again on her neck 
 and uplifted arm, while raising its head and glit- 
 
THE GHOST. 351 
 
 tering eyes with a curve, the foamy fangs flickered 
 in her face. The terrible expression of her power- 
 less despair was carved upon the playfulness that 
 had had no time to pass away ; both stood distinct, 
 like a palimpsest exposed to fire. Round the ring 
 this legend ran: 
 
 DEUS MEUS VINDEX! 
 ILLUM IN ISTAC DIE ATROCITEE REMINISCERE. 
 
 Miriam did not observe this at once, she was 
 too greatly bewildered. She saw only a ring in 
 the brief flash of the expiring taper. Suddenly it 
 was dropped into her hand, and Arundel strode 
 toward the house. But it rolled away unregarded 
 in the moments of awful silence that ensued, while 
 Miriam's wild eyes searched for refuge in the 
 wreck. 
 
 The grasp left her hand only to fasten on her 
 shoulder, and Sir Rohan compelled her gaze. 
 
 " We are standing on your mother's grave," he 
 said in a hoarse voice torn by fragments from a 
 shattered breast. " You are my child. Look at 
 me. Miriam ! Miriam ! I am your father." 
 
 A dreadful noise was in his ears. Like a sword 
 the Ghost struck in a blinding blade of light 
 
352 SIR 
 
 through his eyes. All the blood in his pulses 
 sung across his brain ; and he fell prostrate at her 
 feet. 
 
 A space, Miriam stood lost. Then drawing 
 back, she touched him curiously with her foot, 
 in doubt, disgust. It was one of those instants 
 that comprehend eternity ; the next, she threw 
 herself on the ground beside him, lifting his head 
 on her bosom, and pouring forth wild prayers and 
 cries and tears. Regardless of Arundel dashing 
 away, of St. Denys hastening down, of all the 
 world, she held him. 
 
 But vain to him was joy or grief. Cry or prayer 
 he could not hear. Tears might not move him 
 now, nor that long kiss reinspire life. It was a 
 corpse within her arms. 
 
 Sir Rohan was dead of his Ghost. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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