ill, the pension allowed to Mrs. Grimshawe died with him.
His nephew and heir had given them, through his steward, orders to quit
their present abode, and poverty and the workhouse stared them in the
face.
Hearing of their distress, Noah Cotton came over himself to see them,
and generously offered them a home with him and his wife as long as they
lived. This was done so kindly, that the sick woman forgot all her old
prejudices, and she and Mary thankfully accepted his offer. But when the
time came for their removal, the old woman was too ill to be taken from
her bed, and the surly steward reluctantly consented that she might
remain a few days longer.
Mary was anxious to leave the house. Since the appearance of old Mason's
ghost, a most unpleasant notoriety was attached to it, and the most
disorderly scenes were constantly being enacted beneath its roof.
Persons had been robbed to a considerable amount upon the road leading
to ----, which at last attracted the attention of the magistrates, and a
large reward was offered for the apprehension of the person who
performed the principal part in this disgraceful drama. Still, no
discovery was made, until one night Bob Mason was shot by Tom Weston,
who had sworn to take the ghost alive or dead. The striking resemblance
this profligate young man bore to his father, had enabled him to deceive
many into the belief that he was the person he represented. His mother,
who was not in the secret, had never been on good terms with her son
since he had personated the ghost; and the remarks he made upon his
father she considered as peculiarly insulting to herself; and his
dreadful end drove her mad; and this nest of iniquity was broken up.
Such is the end of the wicked.
Let us now relate what had happened at the Porched House, to change the
worldly Sophy Grimshawe into a pale and care-worn woman. She did not
love Noah Cotton when she consented to become his wife; but he was
superior to her in wealth and station, and his presence inspired her
with respect and awe. He was grave and taciturn, but to her he was
invariably generous and kind. Every indulgence and luxury he could
afford was lavishly bestowed on his young wife; and if he did not
express his attachment with the ardour of a youthful lover, he paid her
a thousand little tender attentions which sufficiently proved the depth
of his affection and esteem.
He was grateful to her for marrying him; and Sophy was not insensible to
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