"Arthur, Viscount de Vere, was my eldest brother then," commenced the Earl. "When a child of two, or thereabouts, and just able to walk, he was taken out a turn one Sunday in the neighbourhood of the Towers by his nurse, a young girl of twenty. I was then unborn, and Augusta about three years old. When near the bosky dell, at the foot of the park, the girl left her charge for an instant to speak to a young man, a forester on my father's estates; after a few minutes she returned and found the child missing. In great alarm she searched the woods round, and fearing the little boy had strayed into the dell recalled the young forester, and the two commenced a long but fruitless search. It was not till some hours were consumed in vain attempts to find the young heir, that the girl and her lover summoned resolution enough to tell the news at the Towers. The poor young woman, in an agony of grief and terror, fell at the Earl's feet and told him all. My father, in wild grief at the loss of his then only son, and heir to the title, gathered all the servants and hurried to the spot. They searched every nook, and shouted the lost child's name--but no answer save the echoes from the wild wood was heard. Throughout the whole night, a night of storm and rain, the search was carried on by means of lanterns, and early next day, as a last resource, bloodhounds were put on the trail; they tracked the lost child to the torrent, but there lost the scent, and it was then concluded the poor boy had wandered to the water's side, fallen into the stream, then swollen by autumn rains, and been carried down to the sea. However, his little remains were never found, and may lie deep in the lone sea." "How melancholy! poor boy! and what became of the unhappy young woman who so neglected her charge?" "She was examined, and cross-examined, but kept to her story, and the young man fully corroborated her statement; they were soon after married and went out to America. I must tell you another story connected with this same torrent, at least unless you are tired." "Oh no--do go on--I am so fond of family legends, yours seems full of them." "It is indeed; the _weird_ of the Wentworths I will tell you some other day. Now for this one, more romantic and less melancholy than the last."