 | CHAPTER I. Condensed novels and other papers |  |
1. CHAPTER I.
The sun was setting over Sloperton Grange, and
reddened the window of the lonely chamber in the
western tower, supposed to be haunted by Sir Edward
Sedilia, the founder of the Grange. In the
dreamy distance arose the gilded mausoleum of Lady
Felicia Sedilia, who haunted that portion of Sedilia
Manor, know as “Stiff-uns Acre.” A little to the
left of the Grange might have been seen a mouldering
ruin, known as “Guy's Keep,” haunted by the
spirit of Sir Guy Sedilia, who was found, one morning,
crushed by one of the fallen battlements. Yet,
as the setting sun gilded these objects, a beautiful
and almost holy calm seemed diffused about the
Grange.
The Lady Selina sat by an oriel window, overlooking
the park. The sun sank gently in the
bosom of the German Ocean, and yet the lady did
arm and diminutive hand which supported it. When
darkness finally shrouded the landscape, she started,
for the sound of horse-hoofs clattered over the stones
of the avenue. She had scarcely risen before an aristocratic
young man fell on his knees before her.
“My Selina!”
“Edgardo! You here?”
“Yes, dearest.”
“And—you—you—have—seen nothing?” said
the lady in an agitated voice and nervous manner,
turning her face aside to conceal her emotion.
“Nothing—that is nothing of any account,” said
Edgardo. “I passed the ghost of your aunt in the
park, noticed the spectre of your uncle in the ruined
keep, and observed the familiar features of the spirit
of your great-grandfather at his post. But nothing
beyond these trifles, my Selina. Nothing more,
love, absolutely nothing.”
The young man turned his dark liquid orbs fondly
upon the ingenuous face of his betrothed.
“My own Edgardo!—and you still love me? You
still would marry me in spite of this dark mystery
which surrounds me? In spite of the fatal history
of my race? In spite of the ominous predictions of
my aged nurse?”
“I would, Selina;” and the young man passed his
arm around her yielding waist. The two lovers
gazed at each other's faces in unspeakable bliss.
Suddenly Selina started.
“Leave me, Edgardo! leave me! A mysterious
an equivocal mistrust oppresses me. I would be
alone!”
The young man arose, and cast a loving glance on
the lady. “Then we will be married on the seventeenth.”
“The seventeenth,” repeated Selina, with a mysterious
shudder.
They embraced and parted. As the clatter of
hoofs in the court-yard died away, the Lady Selina
sank into the chair she had just quitted.
“The seventeenth,” she repeated slowly, with the
same fatal shudder. “Ah!—what if he should know
that I have another husband living? Dare I reveal
to him that I have two legitimate and three natural
children? Dare I repeat to him the history of my
youth? Dare I confess that at the age of seven I
poisoned my sister, by putting verdigris in her
cream-tarts—that I threw my cousin from a swing at
the age of twelve? That the lady's maid who in
curred the displeasure of my girlhood now lies at the
bottom of the horse-pond? No! no! he is too pure
—too good—too innocent, to hear such improper
conversation!” and her whole body writhed as she
rocked to and fro in a paroxysm of grief.
But she was soon calm. Rising to her feet, she
opened a secret panel in the wall, and revealed a
slow-match ready for lighting.
“This match,” said the Lady Selina, “is connected
with a mine beneath the western tower, where
my three children are confined; another branch of it
first marriage is kept. I have only to light this
match and the whole of my past life is swept away!”
She approached the match with a lighted candle.
But a hand was laid upon her arm, and with a
shriek the Lady Selina fell on her knees before the
spectre of Sir Guy.
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