"Good Heaven!" thought Mr. Winter, as he proceeded on his way; "what new calamity is this? Is not that hapless family even yet sufficiently broken? Poor Morton! Now I will wager this comes in some way out of that mad scheme." And indeed it might well seem that nothing was needed to increase the gloom that invested Trevethlan Castle. It was lonely and desolate in the lifetime of its late possessor, but there was then at least the buoyancy of youth to relieve the dreary monotony; and now, even that had vanished. So far was Helen from being able to restore anything like cheerfulness to her brother, that she herself became infected by his sombre moodiness. Strange was the contrast between those dimly latticed Gothic apartments, and the light and lively saloons of Pendarrel: the wanderer in the former almost dreading to break the silence with his footfall, and the latter ringing with careless laughter and mirthful conversation. Polydore Riches himself could with difficulty preserve his ever-hopeful equanimity; and Griffith often reproached himself to his wife for the facility with which he consented to that ill-omened visit to the metropolis: while the few domestics began to fear moving about singly after dusk, and to whisper of mysterious sounds heard, and sights seen, in the darkening corridors. Such tales spread outside the castle, and were improved upon in their progress. It became rumoured that the spirit of the unhappy Margaret wandered through its halls in the silence of night, and harassed the children she was not permitted to love in her lifetime. The villagers began to look upon Randolph as the easterns do upon one possessed of the evil eye, and rather shunned than courted his familiarity. And some of the older folk recalled his father's marriage, and began to ask themselves, was it after all only a mockery? Then, indeed, would poor Margaret have cause to seek vengeance for the deceit by which she was beguiled. And so they went on stringing story upon story, until in the rush of the night wind they heard the wailings and howlings which in days long gone were said to portend disaster to the house of Trevethlan. Randolph was entirely unconscious of the popular mysticism, and too much absorbed in his own feelings to have heeded it in any case. Every day he went forth to the outskirts of the park of Pendarrel, and roamed round its circuit, in the hope of meeting Mildred; and every day that he returned disappointed, made him more restless and reserved. Such an excursion at last led him by Wilderness Gate, and it happened that Maud Basset was sunning herself there as he passed. "Randolph Trevethlan," she cried, as he went by; and he turned, and she came out to the plot of grass to meet him.