of a recluse, to whom dress was matter of indifference.
"You have seen the baubles I destine for the fools who may fancy them; they shall all be sent to the city in the course of to-morrow: prepare your rooms for their reception, and attend to the sale."
The low, deep, sweet voice strongly contrasted with the fierce and abrupt manner; for the words were scarcely said, before, resting his head again upon his hands, he was immersed in his open volume. The dwarf motioned to the surprised auctioneer to leave the room, reconducted him through the costly but melancholy apartments, and left him to remount his horse in the yew-tree avenue, without offering either rest or refreshment, though the night was considerably advanced.
The bewildered auctioneer hurried on, divided by mingled fears of ghosts and thieves; the large and dismal branches of the yews, as they swung to and fro in the wind, causing him innumerable alarms. Every noise was taken for a robber, and every shadow for an apparition. However, he arrived in safety at the village inn, where as many marvels were related of the solitary owner of the mansion as mystery always creates. The whole secret was settled, by deciding that "he had something on his conscience;" and murder, that favourite sin of the vulgar, was fixed upon. What uncharitable things inferences and conclusions are! But the man who, whether in his habits or his actions, in great things
