umstances
is as fresh and perfect as if it happened yesterday; nor do I think
that any time could avail to dim them. To me, as also in the end to Sir
Morgan, the moral of the whole was this--that human affections, love
and grief in excess, are holy things,--yes, even in that wicked woman,
were holy--and not lightly to be set at nought or rejected without
judgment and vengeance to follow."

Here Mr. Williams paused: but Bertram was so much interested in the
story, both in itself and from the connexion into which he had so
recently been brought with two of those who bore a principal share in
it, that he earnestly requested him to complete his narrative; which,
after a short interval of thought, he did.

"The dreadful event, to which I have been alluding, took place on the
12th of June, three-and-twenty years ago--dating from the summer which
is past. About seven o'clock on the evening of that day, finding
herself unusually languid and weary, lady Walladmor had lain down on a
sopha in one of the children's apartments. A fortnight, I ought to
mention, had passed from the time of her _accouchement_: she had
suffered much, and was recovering but slowly: and her female attendants
had, in consequence, been a good deal harassed by unseasonable
watchings and sudden disturbances of their rest. They, poor creatures!
submitted to these, as they would have done to far greater hardships,
cheerfully and without a murmur: indeed all the servants in the castle
would have gone through fire and water to have served their lady; all
but one: and _that_ one, alas! was now left alone in attendance upon
her. Lady Walladmor, who was all consideration for every body about
her, and just such another angel upon earth as Miss Walladmor at
present, had dismissed her own maid and the upper nurse--to refresh
themselves in any way they thought fit from the fatigues of their long
day's attendance; for they had been called up at two o'clock in the
morning. One of the under nurses was engaged in the laundry. And thus
it happened that the duty of attending the two children, who were both
asleep in the adjoining room, devolved on that serpent--Winifred
Griffiths."

"Winifred Griffiths?" exclaimed Bertram in a tone of consternation.

"Yes; Winifred Griffiths:" and at the same time Mr. Williams looked at
him keenly; "have you ever met with a person of that name?"

"I do not know that I have," replied Bertram: "but I remember reading
many books in my yout