I, for one, would rather have staid to hear the talk in which I felt a kind of dreadful interest, but I was used to obey without a word, of course. Dolly was a nice, good-natured, bouncing girl, who was much delighted with the new ribbons and kirtle my aunt had brought for her. She did her best to entertain us; leading us all about the farm and showing us the young fowls and the lambs at play in the pasture. In the course of our rambles, we passed a little ruinous house, half-overgrown with nettles and brambles, but yet bearing the marks of having once been a church-building of some sort. "What is that?" asked Katherine. Dolly crossed herself. "That is the hermit's cell," said she, "but no one lives there now. The place has an evil name, and is haunted." "Why, what is the matter with it?" asked Katherine. Dolly hurried us to some distance from the scene, and then told us the story, which at this distance of time, I do not clearly remember, only that it was that of a hermit who was once very holy and even worked miracles. "They say he had an image of the Virgin of such wonderful power, that it would bow its head and spread out its hands to bless whoever brought it an offering. But by and by, the hermit got into a strange way, refused to say masses in the little chapel you see there, and was heard at night, talking with some invisible person. At last, one morning when he had not been seen for a long time, search was made for him, but naught could they find but his gown and breviary, and the holy image which lay dashed all in fragments on the floor of the chapel." This is the tale as nearly as I remember it. Dolly added, that since then, lights were often seen, and voices heard in the ruins, and that no one would go near them after dark; indeed it was regarded as so dangerous to do so that her father had strictly forbidden it. When we returned to the house we found my uncle had arrived. He greeted us kindly as usual, but his face looked worn and had a set expression, as of one who has been forced against his will to behold some horrible sight. But I had not much time to speculate on his face. I had not been well lately, and had been subject to fits of coldness and swooning, which my aunt declared were caused by a tertian ague. I suppose I might have over-fatigued myself, for one of these same fits came on now, and I came near falling from my seat. I was put to bed with all speed, and dosed with I know not what hot and spicy cordials from the dame's stores; but all did not serve. I had a hard chill, and then a fever, after which I fell asleep. When I waked all was quiet, only for the noises out of doors. I felt very comfortable, though weak and disinclined to stir. So I lay still, and watched the bees buzzing in the eglantine and jasmine round the casement, till I became aware of some one talking in the next room, the door of which was half open. The voices were those of my uncle and aunt. "So he met his death bravely?" said my aunt.