nd
of panic or frenzy of mind, for which it was impossible to account. He
had found Sir Percival walking backwards and forwards by himself in the
hall, swearing, with every appearance of the most violent passion, that
he would not stop another minute alone in such a dungeon as his own
house, and that he would take the first stage of his journey
immediately in the middle of the night. The gardener, on approaching
him, had been hunted out, with oaths and threats, to get the horse and
chaise ready instantly. In a quarter of an hour Sir Percival had
joined him in the yard, had jumped into the chaise, and, lashing the
horse into a gallop, had driven himself away, with his face as pale as
ashes in the moonlight. The gardener had heard him shouting and
cursing at the lodge-keeper to get up and open the gate--had heard the
wheels roll furiously on again in the still night, when the gate was
unlocked--and knew no more.

The next day, or a day or two after, I forget which, the chaise was
brought back from Knowlesbury, our nearest town, by the ostler at the
old inn. Sir Percival had stopped there, and had afterwards left by
the train--for what destination the man could not tell. I never
received any further information, either from himself or from any one
else, of Sir Percival's proceedings, and I am not even aware, at this
moment, whether he is in England or out of it. He and I have not met
since he drove away like an escaped criminal from his own house, and it
is my fervent hope and prayer that we may never meet again.

My own part of this sad family story is now drawing to an end.

I have been informed that the particulars of Miss Halcombe's waking,
and of what passed between us when she found me sitting by her bedside,
are not material to the purpose which is to be answered by the present
narrative. It will be sufficient for me to say in this place, that she
was not herself conscious of the means adopted to remove her from the
inhabited to the uninhabited part of the house. She was in a deep
sleep at the time, whether naturally or artificially produced she could
not say. In my absence at Torquay, and in the absence of all the
resident servants except Margaret Porcher (who was perpetually eating,
drinking, or sleeping, when she was not at work), the secret transfer
of Miss Halcombe from one part of the house to the other was no doubt
easily performed. Mrs. Rubelle (as I discovered for myself, in looking
about