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manner, his restless anxious looks. His affection for the child might
not be inconsistent with villany of the worst kind; even that very
affection was in itself an extraordinary contradiction, or how could he
leave her thus? Disposed as I was to think badly of him, I never
doubted that his love for her was real. I could not admit the thought,
remembering what had passed between us, and the tone of voice in
which he had called her by her name.
'Stay here of course,' the child had said in answer to my question, 'I
always do!' What could take him from home by night, and every night!
I called up all the strange tales I had ever heard of dark and secret
deeds committed in great towns and escaping detection for a long
series of years; wild as many of these stories were, I could not find one
adapted to this mystery, which only became the more impenetrable, in
proportion as I sought to solve it.
Occupied with such thoughts as these, and a crowd of others all
tending to the same point, I continued to pace the street for two long
hours; at length the rain began to descend heavily, and then over-
powered by fatigue though no less interested than I had been at first, I
engaged the nearest coach and so got home. A cheerful fire was
blazing on the hearth, the lamp burnt brightly, my clock received me
with its old familiar welcome; everything was quiet, warm and
cheering, and in happy contrast to the gloom and darkness I had
quitted.
But all that night, waking or in my sleep, the same thoughts recurred
and the same images retained possession of my brain. I had ever
before me the old dark murky rooms - the gaunt suits of mail with
their ghostly silent air - the faces all awry, grinning from wood and
stone - the dust and rust and worm that lives in wood - and alone in
the midst of all this lumber and decay and ugly age, the beautiful
child in her gentle slumber, smiling through her light and sunny
dreams.
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