That night my father bade me good-night early. I had fallen into a doze
when I was roused by a dreadful crash and a piercing scream from Mrs.
Rusk. Scream followed scream, pealing one after the other unabated,
wilder and more terror-stricken. Then came a strange lull, and the dull
sounds of some heavy body being moved.

What was that dreadful sound? Who had entered my father's chamber? It
was the visitor whom he had so long expected, with whom he was to make
the unknown journey, leaving me alone. The intruder was Death!


_II.--The Sorceries of Bartram-Haugh_


One of those fearful aneurisms that lie close to the heart had given way
in a moment. He had fallen, with the dreadful crash I had heard, dead
upon the floor. He fell across the door, which caused a difficulty in
opening it. Mrs. Rusk could not force it open. No wonder she had given
way to terror. I think I should have lost my reason.

I do not know how those awful days, and still more awful nights, passed
over. Lady Knollys came, and was very kind. She was odd, but her
eccentricity was leavened with strong commonsense; and I have often
thought since with gratitude of the tact with which she managed my
grief.

I did not know where to write to Dr. Bryerly, to whom I had promised the
key, but in accordance with my father's written directions, his death
was forthwith published in the principal London papers. He came at