ding, with his head
bent down and his hands clenched together? Yes, there _is_ something
hidden, and Hannah knows it, and this it is which turned her hair grey
so early, and has made her as queer and reticent as your father. There
is a secret between them, but do not try to discover it. There may be
disgrace of some kind which would affect your whole life, so let it
alone. Make good use of what I leave you, and marry one of the Greys.
Lucy is the sweeter and the more amiable, but Geraldine is more
ambitious and will help you to reach the top."

This was the last conversation Mrs. Wetherby ever held with her nephew,
for in two days more she was dead, and Burton buried her in Mt. Auburn,
and went back to the house which was now his, conscious of three
distinct ideas which even during the funeral had recurred to him
constantly. First, that he was the owner of a large house and twenty
thousand dollars; second, that he must marry one of the Greys, if
possible; and third, that there was some secret between his father and
his sister Hannah; something which had made them what they were;
something which had given his father the name of the half-crazy hermit,
and to his sister that of the recluse; something which he must never try
to unearth, lest it bring disquiet and disgrace.

That last word had an ugly sound to Burton Jerrold, who was more
ambitious even than his aunt, more anxious that people in high positions
should think well of him, and he shivered as he repeated it to himself,
while all sorts of fancies flitted though his brain.

"Nonsense!" he exclaimed at last, as he arose, and, walking to the
window, looked out upon the common, where groups of children were
playing. "There is nothing hidden. Why should there be? My father has
never stolen, or forged, or embezzled, or set any one's house on fire.
They esteem him a saint in Allington, and I know he reads his Bible all
the time when he is not praying, and once he was on his knees in his
bedroom a whole hour, for I timed him, and thought he _must_ be crazy.
Of course so good a man can have nothing concealed, and yet--"

Here Burton shivered again, and continued: "And yet, I always seem to be
in a nightmare when I am at the old hut, and once I told Hannah I
believed the house was haunted, for I heard strange sounds at night,
soft footsteps, and moans, and whisperings, and the old dog Rover howled
so dismally, that he kept me awake, and made me nervous and wretched, I
d