moſt important ſecret–a ſecret in which his fate was materially involved. Scarcely had he finiſhed his pious ejaculations, and riſen from his ſupplicating poſture, when a violent guſt of wind ruſhed through the apartment. This was ſucceeded by a ſimilar noiſe to that he had heard in the morning.
With breathleſs patience he turned his eyes toward the door, and trembling, waited the ſpectre’s approach. With ſlow and ſolemn pace it entered the room; its figure and dreſs exactly correſponded with the miniature, and, before it ſpoke, Glanville knew it was the form of the late baron.
“Diſmiſs thy fears, brave youth,” ſaid the ſpectre, in a hollow founding voice, “for innocence like thine has nought to dread. I come to confirm the ſuſpicions that hang on thy mind; and to tell thee, that in this mangled form, thou beholdeſt the ſhadow of him who once was owner of this deſerted manſion, the lord of Raymond’s wide domains. The wretch who now holds that title, obtained it by the fell crime of murder! yes, by murder of his deareſt friend, and the blow that deprived me of life and fortune, robbed thee, my boy, of a father!”
“Merciful God!” exclaimed Glanville, “then are my ſuſpicions confirmed indeed!–But how did he effect this cruel deed?”
“My murderer was the ſon of my only brother; who having at an early age loſt his parent, I took under my protection, and well ſupplied the loſs he had ſuſtained. The feuds that broke out between the neighbouring nations, and kindled up the flames of war, urged me to the hoſtile plain. My ungrateful nephew was my attendant, whoſe ſanguine mind, heated by ambition, and panting to enjoy thoſe honours which by right of birth were mine, amidſt the contending ſhock of arms aimed an arrow at my breaſt. Too certain was the aim, too ſure my fall. With well diſſembled grief he mourned my fate, and paid to my remains a ſoldier’s funeral honours; yet before theſe obſequies were done, he diſpatched a ruffian to my widowed love
