f savage royalty) with charmers and sorcerers. I
suspect, after all, that he was only, like myself, an ardent antiquary,
and cunningly made use of the fear he inspired in order to secure his
authority, and prosecute in safety researches into ancient sepulchres or
temples. His great passion was, indeed, in excavating such remains, in
his neighbourhood; with what result I know not, never having penetrated
so far into regions infested by robbers and pestiferous with malaria. He
wore the Eastern dress, and always carried jewels about him. I came
to the conclusion that for the sake of these jewels he was murdered,
perhaps by some of his own servants (and, indeed, two at least of his
suite were missing), who then at once buried his body, and kept their
own secret. He was old, very infirm; could never have got far from the
town without assistance."

"You have not yet told us his name," said Mrs. Poyntz.

"His name was Grayle."

"Grayle!" exclaimed Mrs. Poyntz, dropping her work. "Louis Grayle?"

"Yes; Louis Grayle. You could not have known him?"

"Known him! No; but I have often heard my father speak of him. Such,
then, was the tragic end of that strong dark creature, for whom, as a
young girl in the nursery, I used to feel a kind of fearful admiring
interest?"

"It is your turn to narrate now," said the traveller.

And we all drew closer round our hostess, who remained silent some
moments, her brow thoughtful, her work suspended.

"Well," said she at last, looking round us with a lofty air, which
seemed half defying, "force and courage are always fascinating, even
when they are quite in the wrong. I go with the world, because the world
goes with me; if it did not--" Here she stopped for a moment, clenched
the firm white hand, and then scornfully waved it, left the sentence
unfinished, and broke into another.

"Going with the world, of course we must march over those who stand
against it. But when one man stands single-handed against our march, we
do not despise him; it is enough to crush. I am very glad I did not see
Louis Grayle when I was a girl of sixteen." Again she paused a moment,
and resumed: "Louis Grayle was the only son of a usurer, infamous for
the rapacity with which he had acquired enormous wealth. Old Grayle
desired to rear his heir as a gentleman; sent him to Eton. Boys are
always aristocratic; his birth was soon thrown in his teeth; he was
fierce; he struck boys bigger than himself,--fought till he w