"for at times a strange shadow seems to pursue me, dad, driving me, as it were, to some unknown evil. What it would bid me do I know not, but of late it has once and again haunted and tormented me, for methinks there is no evil I could wish to do, dear dad; indeed there is not much I know of in this beautiful home where all is fair and lovely, save at the poor old castle!" "I pray Heaven no shadow of harm from its accursed walls may ever darken your pure spirit, dear heart!" said the boatman, somewhat sadly. "Nay, I beg you, suffer no such thought for one moment to enter your mind, my Primrose, for verily I do assure you it is impossible such evil should be permitted to befall the innocent dwellers of the neighbourhood, and no such harm has in the memory of man been known to fall upon any without the castle walls. That shadow which pursues you is but a wile of the Evil One to tempt you astray by means of that busy imagination wherewith Heaven has gifted you, and by which he would fain terrify you with evil forebodings, rather than suffer you to continue ever in the pleasant imaginations of your childhood. Methinks, sweet one, the good and bad angels must needs fight it out over each one of us, but that good guardian spirit of your cradle will surely be ever with you and defy the evil, and I would bid thee, child, to dwell no more in thought upon the castle and its ill-fortunes, but in your work and play to remember ever that you are in the hands of God, and that He gives His own angels charge over you." "Our late king has written learned words on good and bad spirits," said Primrose thoughtfully, "in that strange book called _Dæmonologie_, which our dear vicar has in his shelves. Methinks I have been a foolish girl to read too much therein without his advice, and have perchance so terrified myself! Lately I have read many pages of it, and have scarce been able to lay it down, but I had perhaps been wiser to wait until I were older, ere I read such curious lore. Indeed Master Rhys coming in one forenoon, and finding me deep in its pages, did somewhat chide me for opening it without his permission, and bade me remember that _all_ knowledge I might find in his books was not 'food for babes,' and that he must therefore assort it for me. Whereupon I murmured at being still called a 'babe,' but he did nought but smile at me, and say at his age he made but little account of my fifteen years!" "What else would you then, foolish child?" asked Jack fondly. "Rejoice in your youth while you may, sweet Primrose, and covet not in any wise the knowledge of riper years, until you have the stronger shoulders of age wherewith to bear its burden. Play with your flowers, and dream the sweet dreams of childhood yet awhile, I beseech you, and wish not the golden years of youth to pass too quickly, for with age cometh verily sorrow to most of us, and I would fain with my last breath shield my darling from it! Now to your books, dear heart, while I