fe seemed to have departed. He became content with
Mardykes Hall, laid out money on it, and although he never again cared
to cross the lake, he seemed to like the scenery.

In some respects, however, he lived exactly the same odd and unpopular
life. He saw no one at Mardykes Hall. He practised a very strict
reserve. The neighbours laughed at and disliked him, and he was voted,
whenever any accidental contact arose, a very disagreeable man; and he
had a shrewd and ready sarcasm that made them afraid of him, and himself
more disliked.

Odd rumours prevailed about his household. It was said that his old
relations with Philip Feltram had become reversed; and that he was as
meek as a mouse, and Feltram the bully now. It was also said that Mrs.
Julaper had one Sunday evening when she drank tea at the Vicar's, told
his good lady very mysteriously, and with many charges of secrecy, that
Sir Bale was none the better of his late-found wealth; that he had a
load upon his spirits, that he was afraid of Feltram, and so was every
one else, more or less, in the house; that he was either mad or worse;
and that it was an eerie dwelling, and strange company, and she should
be glad herself of a change.

Good Mrs. Bedel told her friend Mrs. Torvey; and all Golden Friars heard
all this, and a good deal more, in an incredibly short time.

All kinds of rumours now prevailed in Golden Friars, connecting Sir
Bale's successes on the turf with some mysterious doings in Cloostedd
Forest. Philip Feltram laughed when he heard these stories--especially
when he heard the story that a supernatural personage had lent the
Baronet a purse full of money.

"You should not talk to Doctor Torvey so, sir," said he grimly; "he's
the greatest tattler in the town. It was old Farmer Trebeck, who could
buy and sell us all down here, who lent that money. Partly from
good-will, but not without acknowledgment. He has my hand for the first,
not worth much, and yours to a bond for the two thousand guineas you
brought home with you. It seems strange you should not remember that
venerable and kind old farmer whom you talked with so long that day. His
grandson, who expects to stand well in his will, being a trainer in Lord
Varney's stables, has sometimes a tip to give, and he is the source of
your information."

"By Jove, I must be a bit mad, then, that's all," said Sir Bale, with a
smile and a shrug.

Philip Feltram moped about the house, and did precisely what he