And now I was to rehabilitate him before the world, and accordingly all
preparations were made for my departure from Knowl; and at last the
morning came--a day of partings, a day of novelty, and regrets.

I remember we passed a gypsy bivouac on our journey, with fires alight,
on the edge of a great, heathy moor. I had my fortune told, and I am
ashamed to confess I paid the gypsy a pound for a brass pin with a round
bead for a head--a charmed pin, which would keep away rat, and cat, and
snake, a malevolent spirit, or "a cove to cut my throat," from hurting
me. The purchase was partly an indication of the trepidations of that
period Of my life. At all events, I had her pin and she my pound, and I
venture to say I was the gladder of the two.

It was moonlight when we reached Bartram-Haugh. It had a forlorn
character of desertion and decay, contrasting almost awfully with the
grandeur of its proportions and richness of its architecture. A shabby
little old man, a young plump, but very pretty female figure in
unusually short petticoats, and a dowdy old charwoman, all stood in the
door among a riot of dogs. I sat shyly back, peeping at the picture
before me.

"Will you tell me--yes or no--is my cousin in the coach?" screamed the
young lady. She received me with a hug and a hearty "buss," as she
called that salutation, and was evidently glad to see me. Then, after
leading me to my bed-room to make a hurried toilet, she conducted me to
a handsome wainscotted room, where my Uncle Silas awaited me.

A singular looking old man--a face like marble, with a fearful
monumental look--an apparition, drawn, as it seemed, in black and white,
venerable, bloodless, fiery-eyed, with its strange look of power and an