"Eh-h!" groaned the squire. "And a happy issue out of all--" The first note of twelve clanged out, and the parson flung down his book. "Lord help us!" he cried, and Mr Maxwell of Ouseley took his hat from before his face, and waited till the clock had struck twelve. Then the squire got up from his chair, and took up the oak chest and set it down upon the card-table with a heavy thud. He turned the key in the lock, and took out a bundle of parchments and laid them down on his dead wife's needlework, among the cards and the wine-glasses, with her prayer-book by their side. Then he drew himself straight up, and bowed. "Mr Maxwell of Ouseley," he said, "these are the terms on which we stand. This house and estate were to pass to you, my attorney-at-law, in repayment of the loans ye've made me, unless my son Guy came back by twelve to-night, ready to sign such other bonds as ye might please, and to marry your girl whom ye'd like to make a lady of quality as well as the heiress of ye're gains and gettings." "Yes, Mr Waynflete, those were the terms, and I regret--" The squire turned and swore at him, then went on in the same tone as before, "But my eldest son Guy, who broke his mother's heart, and was too late for her deathbed, is _too late_ to save his father, and himself. I leave him my curse for a coward and a fool. And I leave it for all that come after him to follow in his steps. And for t'other one, brother Godfrey, you'd better take and put him into the Church, if you can; he's a thickhead, but an honest lad. So there, Attorney Maxwell, take your own, and the luck ye've earned go with it!" And Mr Maxwell, still murmuring regrets that he daren't speak aloud, closed his long fingers over the deeds. And the parson, the son of the house, put his handkerchief over his face and wept, while the wind rose higher and wailed louder, till it seemed as if cries and prayers for mercy mingled with the thud of the hoofs of the horse that never drew bridle at any door. Then Waynflete of Waynflete Hall took up his dead wife's prayer-book and kissed it, then he walked over to the side table, and stood with his back to the other two. "God have mercy on my soul!" said he, and took something out of the leathern box. And there was a loud noise and a heavy fall, and the old drinking, gambling, hard-living squire never lived to see whether his unlucky son came home too late. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ But in the gloomy mists of the next morning, while the scared household were watching the body laid out for its last sleep in the room where it had fallen, there staggered into the midst of them the ruined heir, his trim locks wild and wet, his fair face marred and degraded, and his eyes mad with fear. "The traitor's ghost--or the devil in his shape--stood in my way--I was coming--" he stuttered in thick, shaking tones.