-faur'd and little
and dow."

"Dow--that's gloomy," Doctor Torvey instructed the Captain aside.

"But they do say, they has an old blud-stean ring in the family that
has a charm in't; and happen how it might, the poor lass fell in love
wi' him. Some said they was married. Some said it hang'd i' the
bell-ropes, and never had the priest's blessing; but anyhow, married or
no, there was talk enough amang the folk, and out o' doors she would na
budge. And there was two wee barns; and she prayed him hard to confess
the marriage, poor thing! But t'was a bootlese bene, and he would not
allow they should bear his name, but their mother's; he was a hard man,
and hed the bit in his teeth, and went his ain gait. And having tired of
her, he took in his head to marry a lady of the Barnets, and it behoved
him to be shut o' her and her children; and so she nor them was seen no
more at Mardykes Hall. And the eldest, a boy, was left in care of my
grandfather's father here in the George."

"That queer Philip Feltram that's travelling with Sir Bale so long is a
descendant of his?" said the Doctor.

"Grandson," observed Mr. Peers, removing his pipe for a moment; "and is
the last of that stock."

"Well, no one could tell where she had gone to. Some said to distant
parts, some said to the madhouse, some one thing, some another; but
neither she nor the barn was ever seen or spoke to by the folk at
Mardykes in life again. There was one Mr. Wigram that lived in them
times down at Moultry, and had sarved, like the Captain here, in the
king's navy in his day; and early of a morning down he comes to the town
for a boat, sayin' he was looking towards Snakes Island through his
spyin'-glass, and he seen a woman about a hundred and fifty yards
outside of it; the Captain here has heard the bearings right enough.
From her hips upwards she was stark and straight out o' the water, and a
baby in her arms. Well, no one else could see it, nor he neither, when
they went down to the boat. But next morning he saw the same thing, and
the boatman saw it too; and they rowed for it, both pulling might and
main; but after a mile or so they could see it no more, and gave over.
The next that saw it was the vicar, I forget his name now--but he was up
the lake to a funeral at Mortlock Church; and coming back with a bit of
a sail up, just passin' Snakes Island, what should they hear on a sudden
but a wowl like a death-cry, shrill and bleak, as made the very blood
ho