much as Simson; but they believed in me: they had a
feeling that all would go right now. God is very good to you when your
children look to you like that. It makes one humble, not proud. I was not
worthy of it; and then I recollected that I had to act the part of a
father to Roland's ghost,--which made me almost laugh, though I might
just as well have cried. It was the strangest mission that ever was
intrusted to mortal man.

It was then I remembered suddenly the looks of the men when they turned
to take the brougham to the stables in the dark that morning. They had
not liked it, and the horses had not liked it. I remembered that even in
my anxiety about Roland I had heard them tearing along the avenue back to
the stables, and had made a memorandum mentally that I must speak of it.
It seemed to me that the best thing I could do was to go to the stables
now and make a few inquiries. It is impossible to fathom the minds of
rustics; there might be some devilry of practical joking, for anything I
knew; or they might have some interest in getting up a bad reputation for
the Brentwood avenue. It was getting dark by the time I went out, and
nobody who knows the country will need to be told how black is the
darkness of a November night under high laurel-bushes and yew-trees. I
walked into the heart of the shrubberies two or three times, not seeing a
step before me, till I came out upon the broader carriage-road, where the
trees opened a little, and there was a faint gray glimmer of sky visible,
under which the great limes and elms stood darkling like ghosts; but it
grew black again as I approached the corner where the ruins lay. Both
eyes and ears were on the alert, as may be supposed; but I could see
nothing in the absolute gloom, and, so far as I can recollect, I heard
nothing. Nevertheless there came a strong impression upon me that
somebody was there. It is a sensation which most people have felt. I have
seen when it has been strong enough to awake me out of sleep, the sense
of some one looking at me. I suppose my imagination had been affected by
Roland's story; and the mystery of the darkness is always full of
suggestions. I stamped my feet violently on the gravel to rouse myself,
and called out sharply, "Who's there?" Nobody answered, nor did I expect
any one to answer, but the impression had been made. I was so foolish
that I did not like to look back, but went sideways, keeping an eye on
the gloom behind. It was with gre