I have heard it rumored for these many years, None of our family dies but there is seen The shape of an old woman, which is given By tradition to us to have been murthered By her nephews for her riches. Such a figure One night, as the prince sat up late at 's book, Appeared to him; when, crying out for help, The gentleman of his chamber found his Grace All in a cold sweat, altered much in face And language, since which apparition He hath grown worse and worse, and much I fear He cannot live. _Duchess of Malfy._ In one of those large antique rooms, belonging to the suite of apartments constituting the eastern wing of Rookwood Place--upon the same night as that in which the events just detailed took place, and it might be about the same time, sat Eleanor, and her new attendant, the gipsy Handassah. The eyes of the former were fixed, with a mixture of tenderness and pity, upon the lineaments of another lovely female countenance, bearing a striking resemblance to her own, though evidently, from its attire, and bygone costume, not intended for her, depicted upon a tablet, and placed upon a raised frame. It was nigh the witching hour of night. The room was sombre and dusky, partially dismantled of its once flowing arras, and the lights set upon the table feebly illumined its dreary extent. Tradition marked it out as the chamber in which many of the hapless dames of Rookwood had expired; and hence Superstition claimed it as her peculiar domain. The room was reputed to be haunted, and had for a long space shared the fate of haunted rooms--complete desertion. It was now tenanted by one too young, too pure, to fear aught unearthly. Eleanor seemed, nevertheless, affected by the profound melancholy of the picture upon which she gazed. At length, Handassah observed her start, and avert her eye shudderingly from the picture. "Take it hence," exclaimed Eleanor; "I have looked at that image of my ancestors, till it has seemed endowed with life--till its eyes have appeared to return my gaze, and weep. Remove it, Handassah." Handassah silently withdrew the tablet, placing it against the wall of the chamber. "Not there--not there," cried Eleanor; "turn it with its face to the wall. I cannot bear those eyes. And now come hither, girl--draw nearer--for I know not what of sudden dread has crossed me. This was _her_ room, Handassah--the chamber of my ancestress--of all the Ladies Rookwood--where they say----Ha! did you not hear a noise?--a rustle in the tapestry--a footstep near the wall? Why, you look as startled as I look, wench; stay by me--I will not have you stir from my side--'twas mere fancy." "No doubt, lady," said Handassah, with her eyes fixed upon the arras. "Hist!" exclaimed Eleanor, "there 'tis again." "'Tis nothing," replied Handassah. But her looks belied her words.