express."

"Heaven be praised!" said Oswald: "I believe you are designed for great
things, my son."

"What! do you too encourage my ambition?" says Edmund; "strange
concurrence of circumstances!--Sit down, my friends; and do you, my
good Joseph, tell me the particulars you promised last night." They drew
their chairs round the fire, and Joseph began as follows:--

"You have heard of the untimely death of the late Lord Lovel, my noble
and worthy master; perhaps you may have also heard that, from that time,
this apartment was haunted. What passed the other day, when my Lord
questioned you both on this head, brought all the circumstances fresh
into my mind. You then said, there were suspicions that he came not
fairly to his end. I trust you both, and will speak what I know of it.
There was a person suspected of this murder; and whom do you think it
was?"

"You must speak out," said Oswald.

"Why then," said Joseph, "it was the present Lord Lovel."

"You speak my thoughts," said Oswald; "but proceed to the proofs."

"I will," said Joseph.

"From the time that my lord's death was reported, there were strange
whisperings and consultations between the new lord and some of the
servants; there was a deal of private business carried on in this
apartment. Soon after, they gave out that my poor lady was distracted;
but she threw out strong expressions that savoured nothing of madness.
She said, that the ghost of her departed lord had appeared to her, and
revealed the circumstances of this murder. None of the servants, but
one, were permitted to see her. At this very time, Sir Walter, the new
lord, had the cruelty to offer love to her; he urged her to marry him;
and one of her women overheard her say, she would sooner die than give
her hand to the man who caused the death of her Lord; Soon after
this, we were told my Lady was dead. The Lord Lovel made a public and
sumptuous funeral for her."

"That is true," said Oswald; "for I was a novice, and assisted at it."

"Well," says Joseph, "now comes my part of the story. As I was coming
home from the burial, I overtook Roger our ploughman. Said he, What
think you of this burying?--'What should I think,' said I, 'but that we
have lost the best Master and Lady that we shall ever know?' 'God, He
knows,' quoth Roger, 'whether they be living or dead; but if ever I
saw my Lady in my life, I saw her alive the night they say she died.' I
tried to convince him that he was mistaken; bu