g time ago, in the reign of King John I think; they say that it drops
blood on the morning of the Holy Friday;--and then mother, and this is
really true," continued the child, changing from his playful manner to
a tone of great earnestness, "there is the figure of a lady in rich
attire, but pale, very pale, who glides through the apartments--yes;
Herbert and Richard and several of the serving men have seen it; and
mistress Alice, poor old soul once was seen to address it, but she would
allow no one to question her on the subject; and they say it was her
doom, and that she must therefore die of her present sickness. Ay: 'twas
in this very room too--the lady's chamber."

"Boy," interrupted Lord Greville sternly, "if thou canst find no
better subject for thy prate, than these unbecoming fooleries, be
silent--Helen! why should you encourage his forwardness, and girlish
love of babbling? Go hence, sirrah! take thyself to rest; and you,
Margaret," added he, turning angrily to the woman, "remember that from
this hour I hear no more insolent remarks, on any dwelling it may suit
your betters to inhabit, nor of this imp's cowardly apprehensions."

Margaret led her young charge from the room; who, however sad his heart
at being thus abruptly dismissed, walked proud and erect with all the
welling consciousness of wounded pride. Helen followed him to the door
with her eyes; and when they fell again upon her work, they were too dim
with tears to distinguish the colours of the flowers she was weaving.
Lord Greville had again relapsed into silent musing; and as she
occasionally stole a glance towards him, she perceived traces of a
severe mental struggle on his countenance; the muscles of his fine
throat worked convulsively, his lips quivered, yet still he spoke not.
At length his eyes closed, and he seemed as if seeking to lose his own
reflections in sleep.

"I will try the spell which drove the evil spirit from the mind of the
King of Israel," thought the sad and terrified wife; "music hath often
power to soothe the darkness of the soul;" and she tuned her lute,
and brought forth the softest of its tones. At length her charm was
successful; Lord Greville slept; and while she watched with all the
intense anxiety of alarmed affection, the unquiet slumbers which
distorted one of the finest countenances that sculptor or painter ever
conceived, she affected to occupy herself with her instrument lest he
should awake, and be displeased to