“Yes, sir, ’tis twenty-one years last September since they left it. I worked here, man and boy, for the General, and the garden over there was just a wonder. When he died, it was let for a short term, and after that it went to rack and ruin as ye see.” “And does no one ever come near it?” “Only the caretaker, once a week,” he replied. “It is rented to graziers for dry heifers, and that’s all. Oh, ’tis a mortial pity.” Mr. Usher turned about as he concluded, and looked into the empty shell of a dwelling. It had originally been a glorified cottage with four spacious rooms and a wide hall; kitchen and servants’ quarters were at the back. The roof was intact; remnants of rich carving, and scraps of expensive wall-paper, still streaked the walls--and bore the signatures of half the country! In the drawing-room was a boat, whilst the dining-room served as a byre for the dry heifers. “Of course when a house is left empty for years ’tis a sore temptation,” resumed the Irishman, in an apologetic key. “The poor people around has made away with the grates and doors and window-sashes. Faix, the old General spared no money on it, and if he was to see it now, he’d haunt the place.” “It looks as if it had a history, or a law-suit,” remarked Mr. Usher, as he settled himself on a low window-sill, and produced his pipe. “Well, then, no, yer honour, God be praised, it has not either wan or the other; but I could tell you--if yer in no hurry--a mighty queer tale of a child that was born there.” “Oh, I’m in no hurry. It is not more than four o’clock,” said Mr. Usher, “and I’d like to hear the story,” offering his tobacco-pouch as he spoke. “Well, then, hear it you shall, and so here goes!” rejoined the other, stuffing, as he spoke, a generous supply of tobacco into the bowl of his pipe, and thrusting it down with a horny thumb. “’Tis more nor twenty years ago, when there were no gentlemen’s lodges round the lake, nor no railroad or telegraphs, nor tourists, but terrible long journeys and great hardships on cars, and the _best_ of shooting and fishing; now we have a power of quality coming to and fro, and admiring all this”--waving his hand,--“and bringing good money into the country. God knows it’s badly wanted; but when I was a young gossoon, a stranger hereabouts was as much of a curiosity as an elephant; so it made a notorious stir when this very place was took by the Earl of Mulgrave and his Countess.” Mr. Usher started, and hastily pulled his pipe out of his mouth. “Mulgrave,” he repeated, “_Mulgrave_, did you say?” “Yes, Mulgrave, sir. I learnt off the name by thinking of graves. They was not too long married, and come on a spree like, and without hardly any servants.” “Yes, yes, yes,” assented Mr. Usher, “but how did they discover it?”