“This match,” said the Lady Selina, “is connected with a mine beneath the western tower, where my three children are confined; another branch of it lies under the parish church, where the record of my first marriage is kept. I have only to light this match and the whole of my past life is swept away!” She approached the match with a lighted candle. But a hand was laid upon her arm, and with a shriek the Lady Selina fell on her knees before the spectre of Sir Guy. CHAPTER II “Forbear, Selina,” said the phantom in a hollow voice. “Why should I forbear?” responded Selina haughtily, as she recovered her courage. “You know the secret of our race?” “I do. Understand me,—I do not object to the eccentricities of your youth. I know the fearful destiny which, pursuing you, led you to poison your sister and drown your lady’s maid. I know the awful doom which I have brought upon this house. But if you make away with these children”— “Well,” said the Lady Selina hastily. “They will haunt you!” “Well, I fear them not,” said Selina, drawing her superb figure to its full height. “Yes, but, my dear child, what place are they to haunt? The ruin is sacred to your uncle’s spirit. Your aunt monopolizes the park, and, I must be allowed to state, not unfrequently trespasses upon the grounds of others. The horse-pond is frequented by the spirit of your maid, and your murdered sister walks these corridors. To be plain, there is no room at Sloperton Grange for another ghost. I cannot have them in my room,—for you know I don’t like children. Think of this, rash girl, and forbear! Would you, Selina,” said the phantom mournfully,—“would you force your great-grandfather’s spirit to take lodgings elsewhere?” Lady Selina’s hand trembled; the lighted candle fell from her nerveless fingers. “No,” she cried passionately; “never!” and fell fainting to the floor. CHAPTER III Edgardo galloped rapidly towards Sloperton. When the outline of the Grange had faded away in the darkness, he reined his magnificent steed beside the ruins of Guy’s Keep. “It wants but a few minutes of the hour,” he said, consulting his watch by the light of the moon. “He dare not break his word. He will come.” He paused, and peered anxiously into the darkness. “But come what may, she is mine,” he continued, as his thoughts reverted fondly to the fair lady he had quitted. “Yet if she knew all. If she knew that I am a disgraced and ruined man,—a felon and an outcast. If she knew that at the age of fourteen I murdered my Latin tutor and forged my uncle’s will. If she knew that I had three wives already, and that the fourth victim of misplaced confidence and my unfortunate peculiarity is expected to be at Sloperton by to-night’s train with her baby. But no; she must not know it. Constance must not arrive; Burke the Slogger must attend to that. “Ha! here he is! Well?” These words were addressed to a ruffian in a slouched hat, who suddenly appeared from Guy’s Keep.