pened to enter into
conversation with him, or who, struck by his singularities, became
inquisitive respecting his country and origin. Sir Robert called him by
the French name, JACQUE, and among the lower orders he was familiarly
known by the title of 'Jack, the devil,' an appellation which originated
in a supposed malignity of disposition and a real reluctance to mix in
the society of those who were believed to be his equals. This morose
reserve, coupled with the mystery which enveloped all about him,
rendered him an object of suspicion and inquiry to his fellow-servants,
amongst whom it was whispered that this man in secret governed the
actions of Sir Robert with a despotic dictation, and that, as if to
indemnify himself for his public and apparent servitude and self-denial,
he in private exacted a degree of respectful homage from his so-called
master, totally inconsistent with the relation generally supposed to
exist between them.

This man's personal appearance was, to say the least of it, extremely
odd; he was low in stature; and this defect was enhanced by a distortion
of the spine, so considerable as almost to amount to a hunch; his
features, too, had all that sharpness and sickliness of hue which
generally accompany deformity; he wore his hair, which was black as
soot, in heavy neglected ringlets about his shoulders, and always
without powder--a peculiarity in those days. There was something
unpleasant, too, in the circumstance that he never raised his eyes to
meet those of another; this fact was often cited as a proof of his being
something not quite right, and said to result not from the timidity
which is supposed in most cases to induce this habit, but from a
consciousness that his eye possessed a power which, if exhibited, would
betray a supernatural origin. Once, and once only, had he violated this
sinister observance: it was on the occasion of Sir Robert's hopes having
been most bitterly disappointed; his lady, after a severe and dangerous
confinement, gave birth to a dead child. Immediately after the
intelligence had been made known, a servant, having upon some business
passed outside the gate of the castle-yard, was met by Jacque, who,
contrary to his wont, accosted him, observing, 'So, after all the
pother, the son and heir is still-born.' This remark was accompanied
by a chuckling laugh, the only approach to merriment which he was ever
known to exhibit. The servant, who was really disappointed, having h