ps which I now do. The keys of the cupboards and buffets
were, I think, lying on the table, or in my workbox, when I quitted
the room. There is a letter on the table, at least I think so. It
is sealed. Let not the seal be broken but by my son, and not by him
unless he knows the secret. Let it be burnt by the priest,--for it
is cursed;--and even should my son know all that I do, oh! let him
pause,--let him reflect well before he breaks the seal,--for 'twere
better he should know NO MORE!"

"Not know more!" thought Philip, as his eyes were still fixed upon the
paper. "Yes, but I must and will know more! so forgive me, dearest
mother, if I waste no time in reflection. It would be but time thrown
away, when one is resolved as I am."

Philip pressed his lips to his mother's signature, folded up the
paper, and put it into his pocket; then, taking the key, he proceeded
downstairs.

It was about noon when Philip descended to open the chamber; the sun
shone bright, the sky was clear, and all without was cheerful and
joyous. The front door of the cottage being closed, there was not much
light in the passage when Philip put the key into the lock of the
long-closed door, and with some difficulty turned it round. To say
that when he pushed open the door he felt no alarm, would not be
correct; he did feel alarm, and his heart palpitated; but he felt more
than was requisite of determination to conquer that alarm, and to
conquer more, should more be created by what he should behold. He
opened the door, but did not immediately enter the room: he paused
where he stood, for he felt as if he was about to intrude into the
retreat of a disembodied spirit, and that that spirit might reappear.
He waited a minute, for the effort of opening the door had taken away
his breath, and, as he recovered himself, he looked within.

He could but imperfectly distinguish the objects in the chamber, but
through the joints of the shutters there were three brilliant beams of
sunshine forcing their way across the room, which at first induced him
to recoil as if from something supernatural; but a little reflection
reassured him. After about a minute's pause, Philip went into the
kitchen, lighted a candle, and, sighing deeply two or three times
as if to relieve his heart, he summoned his resolution, and walked
towards the fatal room. He first stopped at the threshold, and, by the
light of the candle, took a hasty survey. All was still: and the
table on whic