n. But the event, such as it
was, by giving a new turn to his thoughts, had roused and relieved his
spirit, and misery sat upon him with a lighter load. Perhaps, too, to
that still haunting recollection was mainly owing a change in his former
purpose. He would still sell the old Hall; but he would first return,
and remove that holy portrait, with pious hands; he would garner up and
save all that had belonged to her whose death had been his birth. Ah,
never had she known for what trials the infant had been reserved!

CHAPTER III.

THE weary hours steal on
And flaky darkness breaks.--_Richard III._

ONCE more, suddenly and unlooked for, the lord of Burleigh appeared at
the gates of his deserted hall! and again the old housekeeper and her
satellites were thrown into dismay and consternation. Amidst blank and
welcomeless faces, Maltravers passed into his study: and as soon as the
logs burned and the bustle was over, and he was left alone, he took up
the light and passed into the adjoining library. It was then about nine
o'clock in the evening; the air of the room felt damp and chill, and
the light but faintly struggled against the mournful gloom of the dark
book-lined walls and sombre tapestry. He placed the candle on the table,
and drawing aside the curtain that veiled the portrait, gazed with deep
emotion, not unmixed with awe, upon the beautiful face whose eyes seemed
fixed upon him with mournful sweetness. There is something mystical
about those painted ghosts of ourselves, that survive our very dust!
Who, gazing upon them long and wistfully, does not half fancy that they
seem not insensible to his gaze, as if we looked our own life into them,
and the eyes that followed us where we moved were animated by a stranger
art than the mere trick of the limner's colours?

With folded arms, rapt and motionless, Maltravers contemplated the form
that, by the upward rays of the flickering light, seemed to bend down
towards the desolate son. How had he ever loved the memory of his
mother! how often in his childish years had he stolen away, and shed
wild tears for the loss of that dearest of earthly ties, never to be
compensated, never to be replaced! How had he respected, how sympathized
with the very repugnance which his father had at first testified towards
him, as the innocent cause of her untimely death! He had never seen
her,--never felt her passionate kiss; and yet it seemed to him, as he
gazed, as if he