new it well, he answered. The last
inhabitant had been a Count Ruy Gonzalez, a Spaniard, whose wife had
died there under some painful circumstances, of which nobody knew the
particulars. He had been passionately fond of her, and immediately after
her decease had gone to reside in Paris, where he had also died. As the
place formed part of the lady's fortune, it had fallen into the hands of
some distant relation of hers, who had let it; but the tenant, after a
residence of a few months, left it, at some sacrifice of rent; and other
parties who subsequently took it having all speedily vacated under one
pretext or another, an evil reputation gathered round and clung to it so
tenaciously, that all idea of occupation had been relinquished.

It may be conceived that this information did not diminish my interest
in the deserted house; and on the following day I was quite eager to see
my invalid settled for her mid-day slumber, in order that I might repeat
my visit, and carry my investigations further. I found the gate ajar as
before, and by exerting all my strength, I managed to force my way in. I
had not gone three steps before a snake crossed my path, and the ground
seemed actually alive with lizards; but being determined to obtain a
nearer view of this mysterious house, I walked straight on toward it. A
close inspection of the front, however, showing me nothing but what I
had descried from a distance, I turned to the left, and passed round to
the back of the building, where I found the remains of what had been a
small flower-garden, with a grass-plot; and beyond it, divided by a
wall, a court surrounded by mouldy-looking stabling: but, what was much
more interesting, I discovered an open door leading into the house.
Somebody, therefore, must surely be within; so I knocked with my parasol
against the panel, but nobody came; and having repeated my knock with no
better success, I ventured in, and found myself in a stone passage,
terminating in a door, which, by a feeble light emitted through it, I
saw was partly of glass.

"Any body here?" I said aloud, as I opened it and put in my head, but
all was silent: so I went forward, not without some apprehension, I
confess; but it was that sort of pleasing terror one feels when
witnessing a good melodrama. I was now in a tolerably-sized hall,
supported by four stone pillars, and on each side of it were two doors.
I spoke again, and knocked against them, but nobody answered; then I
tu