The Oak, meanwhile, had by no means ceased to connect itself with the family interests, although it, also, seemed to have become less menacing since its last terrible manifestation. Its present relation to the household was more intimate and friendly than had ever been the case before; it had, in fact, become the haunt and almost the home of Lady Kildhurm herself. It was her daily and also her nightly habit to climb into its branches, and there sit for hours, gazing out on the sea and singing to herself fragments of songs; or occasionally carrying on what had the semblance of being long and earnest conversations with some interlocutor who never made himself visible to any other eyes than those of her ladyship, and who was probably only subjectively manifest even to her. Be that as it may, this unseen personage's existence was solidly believed in by many intelligent persons, several of whom went so far as to say that they had heard the tones of his voice. Others affirmed that he could be no other than the genie himself of the Oak, who, having made away with Lady Kildhurm's husband on account of some slight which the latter put upon him, was now making amends to the wife by taking her into his confidence, and imparting to her many invaluable family secrets, as well as giving her instructions as to the future. Among other things, he must have explained to her the true meaning of the prophetic verses inscribed upon the silver disc, which was at this period almost entirely embedded in the substance of the bark: and she must therefore be aware of the nature of the fortune which was in store for the Kildhurm race, and of the means by which it was to be acquired. But the more things she was credited with knowing, the less inclined did she seem to satisfy the curiosity of the ignorant; insomuch that not one well-authenticated word of all the tales that the genie of the Oak was said to have poured into her ear has ever transpired from that day to this.