V. HIGH AND LOW.
XLV. A LAST ENCOUNTER.
XLVI. A HORRIBLE STORY.
XLVII. MORVEN HOUSE
XLVIII. PATERNAL REVENGE.
XLIX. FILIAL RESPONSE.
L. A SOUTH-EASTERLY WIND.
LI. A DREAM.
LII. INVESTIGATION.
LIII. MISTRESS BROOKES UPON THE EARL.
LIV. LADY ARCTURA'S ROOM.
LV. HER BED-CHAMBER.
LVI. THE LOST ROOM.
LVII. THE HOUSEKEEPER'S ROOM.
LVIII. A SOUL DISEASED.
LIX. DUST TO DUST.
LX. A LESSON ABOUT DEATH.
LXI. THE BUREAU.
LXII. THE CRYPT.
LXIII. THE CLOSET.
LXIV. THE GARLAND-ROOM.
LXV. THE WALL.
LXVI. PROGRESS AND CHANGE.
LXVII. THE BREAKFAST-ROOM.
LXVIII. LARKIE.
LXIX. THE SICK-CHAMBER.
LXX. A PLOT.
LXXI. GLASHGAR.
LXXII. SENT, NOT CALLED.
LXXIII. IN THE NIGHT.
LXXIV. A MORAL FUNGUS.
LXXV. THE PORCH OF HADES.
LXXVI. THE ANGEL OF THE LORD.
LXXVII. THE ANGEL OF THE DEVIL.
LXXVIII. RESTORATION.
LXXIX. A SLOW TRANSITION.
LXXX. AWAY-FARING.
LXXXI. A WILL AND A WEDDING.
LXXXII. THE WILL.
LXXXIII. INSIGHT.
LXXXIV. MORVEN HOUSE.
CHAPTER I.
FOOT-FARING.
It was a lovely morning in the first of summer. Donal Grant was
descending a path on a hillside to the valley below--a sheep-track of
which he knew every winding as well as any boy his half-mile to and
from school. But he had never before gone down the hill with the
feeling that he was not about to go up again. He was on his way to
pastures very new, and in the distance only negatively inviting. But
his heart was too full to be troubled--nor was his a heart to harbour a
care, the next thing to an evil spirit, though not quite so bad; for
one care may drive out another, while one devil is sure to bring in
another.
A great billowy waste of mountains lay beyond him, amongst which played
the shadow at their games of hide and seek--graciously merry in the
eyes of the happy man, but sadly solemn in the eyes of him in whose
heart the dreary thoughts of the past are at a like game. Behind Donal
lay a world of dreams into which he dared not turn and look, yet from
which he could scarce avert his eyes.
He was nearing the foot of the hill when he stumbled and almost fell,
but recovered himself with the agility of a mountaineer, and the
unpleasant knowledge that the sole of one of his shoes was all but off.
Never had he left home for college that his father had not made
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