He then went to the kitchen, accompanied by Susan Trott, who, although shivering like an aspen tree, had just sufficient strength of mind to find a lucifer and light her candle. By the light of this candle Captain Buncombe examined the kitchen. On the hearth, at his feet, he saw something gleaming in the uncertain light. He stooped to pick up this object, and found that it was a curious gold coin--a foreign coin, bent in a peculiar manner. This was even yet more strange. The captain put the coin in his pocket. "I'll take good care of this, my girl," he said. "It isn't often a ghost leaves anything behind him." * * * * * CHAPTER XV. A TERRIBLE RESOLVE. When the hawthorns were blooming in the woods of Raynham, a new life dawned in the stately chambers of the castle. A daughter was born to the beautiful widow-lady--a sweet consoler in the hour of her loneliness and desolation. Honoria Eversleigh lifted her heart to heaven, and rendered thanks for the priceless treasure which had been bestowed upon her. She had kept her word. From the hour of her husband's death she had never quitted Raynham Castle. She had lived alone, unvisited, unknown; content to dwell in stately solitude, rarely extending her walks and drives beyond the boundary of the park and forest. Some few of the county gentry would have visited her; but she would not consent to be visited by a few. Honoria Eversleigh's was a proud spirit; and until the whole county should acknowledge her innocence, she would receive no one. "Let them think of me or talk of me as they please," she said; "I can live my own life without them." Thus the long winter months passed by, and Honoria was alone in that abode whose splendour must have seemed cold and dreary to the friendless woman. But when she held her infant in her arms all was changed She looked down upon the baby-girl, and murmured softly-- "Your life shall be bright and peaceful, dearest, whatever mine may be. The future looks bleak and terrible for me; but for you, sweet one, it may be bright and fair." The young mother loved her child with a passionate intensity; but even that love could not exclude darker passions from her breast. There was much that was noble in the nature of this woman; but there was also much that was terrible. From her childhood she had been gifted with a power of intellect--a strength of will--that lifted her high above the common ranks of womanhood. A fatal passion had taken possession of her soul after the untimely death of Sir Oswald; and that passion was a craving for revenge. She had been deeply wronged, and she could not forgive. She did not even try to forgive. She believed that revenge was a kind of duty which she owed, not only to herself, but to the noble husband whom she had lost.