ble
mansion, and, turning towards the object at which I pointed, he said,
with a sad smile, "It is my old fellow-servant, sir! the only one
besides me that haunts the place now; but it is time he should leave it
too, for even _that_ tree, my master's favourite tree, that he planted
when a child with his own hands, will be cut down to-morrow." So
saying, he gave a low whistle, and calling, "Ralph! Ralph!" the
well-known signal was acknowledged by an answering croak, and a huge
raven, hopping to the ground from his dark covert in the interior of
the bay-tree, came towards Hallings with sedate and solemn gait, and,
first eyeing the old man's countenance with a look of almost human
intelligence, perched upon his extended wrist, and suffered himself to
be borne on it as we retraced our steps toward the cottage, discoursing
(I could have fancied) by sidelong glances at his kind supporter, of the
departed glories of their master's house, and their last look at its
untimely ruins.

CHAPTER II.

Our ride home--our pleasant moonlight ride! was performed almost
in silence. My friend's thoughts were busy with sad and tender
recollections, and mine with the scene from whence we came, and the
persons and circumstances I had heard so tenderly spoken of, and
mysteriously alluded to. "I must hear more before I sleep," was my
inward soliloquy, as we reined up our steeds at the lodge gate; and
forthwith I obtained a promise from L---- that he would gratify my
curiosity before we retired for the night. My fair hostess was able
and willing to contribute her share of information on a subject not
less interesting to her than to her husband; and from their mutual
reminiscences I made out a little history of the last Devereux,
uneventful, indeed, for the most part, and not perfectly explanatory
in its latter details, but such a one as may be listened to without
impatience by the indulgent hearer, who has accompanied me unwearied in
my pilgrimage to the cottage of Matthew Hallings, and to the desolated
site where so lately stood the venerable fabric of Devereux Hall.

The late Mr Devereux and his sister, said my friend, were the only
children of Roger Devereux, Esq., and Dame Ethelred, his wife, whose
venerable and dignified old age I well remember, for it was extended to
such a patriarchal term, that "the young folks" (as they were wont to
term their son and daughter, "the young Squire and Miss," as Mr Reginald
and Miss Devereux were call