Our tale draws to a conclusion. The Marquis of A, alarmed at the frightful reports that were current, and anxious for his kinsman's safety, arrived on the subsequent day to mourn his loss; and, after renewing in vain a search for the body, returned to forget what had happened amid the bustle of politics and state affairs.
Not so Caleb Balderstone. If worldly profit could have consoled the old man, his age was better provided for than his earlier life had ever been; but life had lost to him its salt and its savour. His whole course of ideas, his feelings, whether of pride or of apprehension, of pleasure or of pain, had all arisen from his close connection with the family which was now extinguished. He held up his bead no longer—forsook all his usual haunts and occupations, and seemed only to find pleasure in mopeing about those apartments in the old castle, which the Master of Ravenswood had last inhabited. He ate without refreshment, and slum-
