When the subject had been thus discussed, in all its bearings, the Earl, who still looked serious, and even melancholy, said, “I am not sorry that Captain Montgomery has taken Arthur with him; it would have been a sad scene for the poor little fellow! Our friend, Sir Archibald Oswald,” he added, after a solemn pause, and looking round the company, “is no more! The state of his mind will, I trust, acquit him in the eyes of heaven, as it undoubtedly must in the judgment of men; but, there is reason to fear that our unhappy friend has been accessary to his own death. His body was yesterday found in the lake by the work people who were preparing for the illuminations. Duncan very properly suppressed the circumstance, till he had communicated it privately to me; and I judged it best to permit the entertainment offered to our friends to proceed, without checking the pleasure of the company by the introduction of so melancholy a subject.” Miss Morven thought that Mr. St. Aubin was certainly a very amiable young man: he showed so much feeling. He actually turned quite pale, when her uncle mentioned, Sir Archibald’s body being found in the lake. Many of course were the exclamations of pity and surprise. “It will be quite a change of scene,” continued the Earl, “I must send for the proper persons; and, if their verdict is, as I have no doubt it will be, insanity, I must give my poor friend a suitable funeral.” CHAPTER XXIX. “Each fiercely grapples with his foe.” … “Have I then murder’d thee!” To account for Sir Archibald Oswald’s disappearance from Arandale, and the subsequent discovery of his body in the lake, we must accompany him in a walk before breakfast, on the morning after he had evinced so much emotion the previous evening; first of a furious description, when Henry’s voice arrested his attention; and finally, of a tender and subdued nature, when, on hearing Julia sing, all violence had not only been allayed, but, unconscious tears had flowed over his haggard countenance. Having retired without supper, and, consequently, without the excess in wine, which, with him, too frequently formed the principal part of that meal, the unhappy Oswald slept better than was his custom. He rose earlier; he felt some degree of composure; a lucid interval was probably approaching. He wandered into the deep woods that surround Arandale Castle. The solitude they afforded was of a cheering and animated kind. Stately deer crossed his path; birds sang, and peacocks screamed in every branch, and the cawing rooks were, as usual, in busy motion, in and over the tops of all the high old trees.