s talk was in German, Latin,
French, English, Italian, and half-a-dozen languages besides, sentence
about; and how he remembered his own dear mother's dress when she went
to Lord Wharton's great ball at the castle--dear, oh! dear, how long ago
that was! And then he would relate stories of banshees, and robberies,
and ghosts, and hair-breadth escapes, and 'rapparees,' and adventures in
the wars of King James, which he heard told in his nonage by the old
folk, long vanished, who remembered those troubles.

'And now, darling,' said little Lily, nestling close to him, with a
smile, 'you _must_ tell me all about that strange, handsome Mr. Mervyn;
who he is, and what his story.'

'Tut, tut! little rogue----'

'Yes, indeed, you must, and you will; you've kept your little Lily
waiting long enough for it, and she'll promise to tell nobody.'

'Handsome he is, and strange, no doubt--it was a strange fancy that
funeral. Strange, indeed,' said the rector.

'What funeral, darling?'

'Why, yes, a funeral--the bringing his father's body to be laid here in
the vault, in my church; it is their family vault. 'Twas a folly; but
what folly will not young men do?'

And the good parson poked the fire a little impatiently.

'Mr. Mervyn--_not_ Mervyn--that was his mother's name; but--see, you
must not mention it, Lily, if I tell you--_not_ Mr. Mervyn, I say, but
my Lord Dunoran, the only son of that disgraced and blood-stained
nobleman, who, lying in gaol, under sentence of death for a foul and
cowardly murder, swallowed poison, and so closed his guilty life with a
tremendous crime, in its nature inexpiable. There, that's all, and too
much, darling.'

'And was it very long ago?'

'Why, 'twas before little Lily was born; and long before _that_ I knew
him--only just a little. He used the Tiled House for a hunting-lodge,
and kept his dogs and horses there--a fine gentleman, but vicious,
always, I fear, and a gamester; an overbearing man, with a dangerous
cast of pride in his eye. You don't remember Lady Dunoran?--pooh, pooh,
what am I thinking of? No, to be sure! you could not. 'Tis from her,
chiefly, poor lady, he has his good looks. Her eyes were large, and very
peculiar, like _his_--his, you know, are very fine. She, poor lady, did
not live long after the public ruin of the family.'

'And has he been recognised here? The townspeople are so curious.'

'Why, dear child, not one of them ever saw him before. He's been lost
sight of b