return, so that in the end each succeeding tenant was fain to
endure its presence, rather than be subject to the terrors and
annoyances consequent upon its removal. Its place was a square
aperture in the wall; nor would it suffer this opening to be
glazed, or otherwise filled up, without creating some
disturbance. It seemed as if those rayless sockets loved to
look abroad, peradventure on the scenes of its former
enjoyments and reminiscences. It was almost bleached white by
exposure to the weather, and many curious persons have made a
pilgrimage there even in late years. Several young men from
Manchester once going on this errand, one of them, unobserved
of his fellows, thought he would ascertain the truth of the
stories he had heard. For this purpose he privately removed the
skull to another situation, and left it to find its way back
again. The night but one following, such a storm arose about
the house, that many trees were blown down, the roofs were
unthatched, and the tenants, finding out the cause, as they
supposed, replaced the skull, when these terrific disturbances
ceased.
The occurrences detailed more fully in the following pages are
usually assigned as the origin of this strange superstition.
"I wonder what that hair-brained brother of mine can be doing. No
fresh brawl, I hope," said Maria Downes to her cousin Eleanor, as they
sat, mopish and disquieted enough, in a gloomy chamber of the old hall
at Worsley.
"I hope not, too," replied Eleanor; and there was another long and
oppressive silence.
It was in the dusk of a chill, damp November evening. The fire shot
forth a sharp uncertain glimmer, and the dim walls threw back the
illumination.
"I know not why," said Maria, "but my spirits are very sad, and
everything I see looks mistrustful and foreboding!"
So thought her cousin; but she did not speak. Her heart was too full,
and a tear started in her eye.
"Would that Harry had eschewed the frivolities and dissipations of
yonder ungodly city; that he had stayed with us here, in safe and
happy seclusion. I have hardly known pleasure since he went."
Eleanor's bosom again responded to the note of agony that was wrung
from her cousin, and she turned her head to hide what she had too
plainly betrayed.
"Since that unhappy fray in which peradventure an innocent and
unoffending victim was the r
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