he massive trees which spread
their thick shade on every side attest that the spot has been occupied
and cultivated for several generations. Besides, the ditches which
surround it, and the stone bridge that leads to the principal gate,
justify the belief that the estate has some right to be considered a
lordly demesne. In the neighborhood it is known as GRINSELHOF. The
entire front of the property is covered by the homestead of the farmer,
comprising his stables and granges; so that, in fact, every thing in
their rear is concealed by these edifices as well as by dense thickets
and hedges which are growing in all the wild luxuriance of nature.
Indeed, the dwelling of the proprietor was a mystery even to the farmer
who worked the soil; for its surrounding copses were an impenetrable
veil to his eyes, beyond which neither he nor his family were ever
allowed to pass without special permission.

Within this lonely and sacred precinct, buried in foliage, was a large
house, called THE CHATEAU, inhabited by a gentleman and his daughter,
who, without a single servant, companion, or attendant, led the lonely
lives of hermits. The neighbors said that it was avarice or ill-humor
that induced a person possessed of so beautiful an estate to bury
himself in such a solitude. The farmer who worked on the property
carefully avoided all explanations as to the conduct or purpose of the
proprietor, and sedulously respected the mysterious habits and fancies
of his master. His business prospered; for the soil was fertile and the
rent low. Indeed, he was grateful to his landlord, and, every Sunday,
lent him a horse, which carried him and his daughter, in their
weather-beaten _caleche_, to the village church. On great occasions the
farmer's son performed the duty of lackey for the proprietor.

It is an afternoon of one of the last days of July. The sun has nearly
finished his daily course, and is declining rapidly toward the horizon;
still, his rays, though less ardent than at noontide, are hot enough to
make the air close and stifling. At Grinselhof the last beams of the
setting luminary play gayly over the foliage, gilding the tree-tops with
sparkling light, while, on the eastern side of the dense foliage, the
long, broad shadows begin to fall athwart the sward, and prepare the
groves for the gentle and refreshing breeze that springs up at twilight.

Sadness and gloom hang over the sombre chateau and its grounds; a
deathlike silence weighs