"And what brought you to tell me all this, Caterine?" asked Alice.

"Why, miss, to put you on your guard; afraid you might get married to a
man that, maybe, has sould himself to the devil. It's well known by his
father's sarvints that he's out two or three nights in the week, and
nobody can tell where he goes."

"Are the servants your authority for that?"

"Indeed they are; Barney Casey knows a great deal about him. Now, Miss
Alice, you're on your guard; have nothing to do wid him as a sweetheart;
but above all things don't fall out wid him, bekaise, if you did, as
sure as I stand here he'd wither you off o' the earth. And above all
things again watch his eyes; I mane the black one, but don't seem to do
so; and now good-by, miss; I've done my duty to you."

"But about his brother, Caterine? He has not the Evil Eye, I hope?"

"Ah, miss, I could tell you something about him, too. They're a bad
graft, these Lindsays; there's Mr. Charles, and it's whispered he's
goin' to make a fool of himself and disgrace his family."

"How is that, Caterine?"

"I don't know rightly; I didn't hear the particulars; but I'll be on the
watch, and when I can I'll let you know it."

"Take no such trouble, Caterine," said Alice; "I assure you I feel no
personal interest whatsoever in any of the family except Miss Lindsay.
Leave me, Caterine, leave me; I must finish my book; but I thank you
for your good wishes. Go up, and say I desired them to give you your
dinner."

Alice soon felt herself obliged to follow; and it was, indeed, with some
difficulty she was able to reach the house. Her heart got deadly sick;
an extraordinary weakness came over her; she became alarmed, frightened,
distressed; her knees tottered under her, and she felt on reaching
the hall-door as if she were about to faint. Her imagination became
disturbed; a heavy, depressing gloom descended upon her, and darkened
her flexible and unresisting spirit, as if it were the forebodings of
some terrible calamity.

The diabolical wretch who had just left her took care to perform her
base and heartless task with double effect. It was not merely the
information she had communicated concerning Woodward that affected her
so deeply, although she felt, as it were, in the Inmost recesses of her
soul, that it was true, but that which went at the moment with greater
agony to her heart was the allusion to Charles Lindsay, and the
corroboration it afforded to the truth of the charge wh