gthen his account.'

It happened that the spot upon which young Bertram chanced to station
himself for the better viewing the castle was nearly the same on which
his father had died. It was marked by a large old oak-tree, the only one
on the esplanade, and which, having been used for executions by the
barons of Ellangowan, was called the Justice Tree. It chanced, and the
coincidence was remarkable, that Glossin was this morning engaged with a
person whom he was in the habit of consulting in such matters concerning
some projected repairs and a large addition to the house of Ellangowan,
and that, having no great pleasure in remains so intimately connected
with the grandeur of the former inhabitants, he had resolved to use the
stones of the ruinous castle in his new edifice. Accordingly he came up
the bank, followed by the land-surveyor mentioned on a former occasion,
who was also in the habit of acting as a sort of architect in case of
necessity. In drawing the plans, etc., Glossin was in the custom of
relying upon his own skill. Bertram's back was towards them as they came
up the ascent, and he was quite shrouded by the branches of the large
tree, so that Glossin was not aware of the presence of the stranger till
he was close upon him.

'Yes, sir, as I have often said before to you, the Old Place is a perfect
quarry of hewn stone, and it would be better for the estate if it were
all down, since it is only a den for smugglers.' At this instant Bertram
turned short round upon Glossin at the distance of two yards only, and
said--'Would you destroy this fine old castle, sir?'

His face, person, and voice were so exactly those of his father in his
best days, that Glossin, hearing his exclamation, and seeing such a
sudden apparition in the shape of his patron, and on nearly the very spot
where he had expired, almost thought the grave had given up its dead! He
staggered back two or three paces, as if he had received a sudden and
deadly wound. He instantly recovered, however, his presence of mind,
stimulated by the thrilling reflection that it was no inhabitant of the
other world which stood before him, but an injured man whom the slightest
want of dexterity on his part might lead to acquaintance with his rights,
and the means of asserting them to his utter destruction. Yet his ideas
were so much confused by the shock he had received that his first
question partook of the alarm.

'In the name of God, how came you here?' said