gleaming eyes, though you move like men who live.

I never saw in any other eye the least glimmer of the same baleful
effulgence. His fits, too--his hoverings between life and death--between
intellect and insanity--a dubious, marsh-fire existence, horrible to look
on!

I was puzzled even to comprehend his feelings toward his children.
Sometimes it seemed to me that he was ready to lay down his soul for them;
at others, he looked and spoke almost as if he hated them. He talked as if
the image of death was always before him, yet he took a terrible interest
in life, while seemingly dozing away the dregs of his days in sight of his
coffin.

Oh! Uncle Silas, tremendous figure in the past, burning always in memory in
the same awful lights; the fixed white face of scorn and anguish! It
seems as if the Woman of Endor had led me to that chamber and showed me a
spectre.

Dudley had not left Bartram-Haugh when a little note reached me from Lady
Knollys. It said--

'DEAREST MAUD,--I have written by this post to Silas, beseeching a loan of
you and my Cousin Milly. I see no reason your uncle can possibly have for
refusing me; and, therefore, I count confidently on seeing you both at
Elverston to-morrow, to stay for at least a week. I have hardly a creature
to meet you. I have been disappointed in several visitors; but another time
we shall have a gayer house. Tell Milly--with my love--that I will not
forgive her if she fails to accompany you.

'Believe me ever your affectionate cousin,

'MONICA KNOLLYS.'

Milly and I were both afraid that Uncle Silas would refuse his consent,
although we could not divine any sound reason for his doing so, and there
were many in favour of his improving the opportunity of allowing poor Milly
to see some persons of her own sex above the rank of menials.

At about twelve o'clock my uncle sent for us, and, to our great delight,
announced his consent, and wished us a very happy excursion.

CHAPTER XLII

_ELVERSTON AND ITS PEOPLE_

So Milly and I drove through the gabled high street of Feltram next day. We
saw my gracious cousin smoking with a man like a groom, at the door of the
'Plume of Feathers.' I drew myself back as we passed, and Milly popped her
head out of the window.

'I'm blessed,' said she, laughing, 'if he hadn't his thumb to his nose, and
winding up his little finger, the way he does with old Wyat--L'Amour, ye
know; and you may be sure he said something funny, for Jim J