f her unknown
Uncle Silas--her cousin, good, bright devoted Monica Knollys, and her
dreadful distrust of Silas--Bartram Haugh and its uncanny occupants, and
foremost amongst them Uncle Silas.

This is his portrait:

'A face like marble, with a fearful monumental look, and for an old man,
singularly vivid, strange eyes, the singularity of which rather grew
upon me as I looked; for his eyebrows were still black, though his hair
descended from his temples in long locks of the purest silver and fine
as silk, nearly to his shoulders.

'He rose, tall and slight, a little stooped, all in black, with an ample
black velvet tunic, which was rather a gown than a coat....

'I know I can't convey in words an idea of this apparition, drawn, as it
seemed, in black and white, venerable, bloodless, fiery-eyed, with
its singular look of power, and an expression so bewildering--was it
derision, or anguish, or cruelty, or patience?

'The wild eyes of this strange old man were fixed on me as he rose; an
habitual contraction, which in certain lights took the character of
a scowl, did not relax as he advanced towards me with a thin-lipped
smile.'

Old Dicken and his daughter Beauty, old L'Amour and Dudley Ruthyn, now
enter upon the scene, each a fresh shadow to deepen its already sombre
hue, while the gloom gathers in spite of the glimpse of sunshine shot
through it by the visit to Elverston. Dudley's brutal encounter with
Captain Oakley, and vile persecution of poor Maude till his love
marriage comes to light, lead us on to the ghastly catastrophe, the
hideous conspiracy of Silas and his son against the life of the innocent
girl.

It is interesting to know that the germ of Uncle Silas first appeared
in the 'Dublin University Magazine' of 1837 or 1838, as the short tale,
entitled, 'A Passage from the Secret History of an Irish Countess,'
which is printed in this collection of Stories. It next was published as
'The Murdered Cousin' in a collection of Christmas stories, and finally
developed into the three-volume novel we have just noticed.

There are about Le Fanu's narratives touches of nature which reconcile
us to their always remarkable and often supernatural incidents. His
characters are well conceived and distinctly drawn, and strong soliloquy
and easy dialogue spring unaffectedly from their lips. He is a close
observer of Nature, and reproduces her wilder effects of storm and gloom
with singular vividness; while he is equally a