repose in Castle Mortimer, little anticipating the singularly dreadful
disclosure of the ensuing morning. Charles, in fact, not having
returned, one of the inferior serving-men,--who durst not, now that his
master was at home, stand upon the punctilio of "_not my business_,"
undertook soon after dawn to "see to the hounds," in his stead; when
upon opening the door of the large enclosure in which they were kept, he
there beheld, to his unutterable consternation and horror, _the mangled
remnants of the careless and cruel Huntsman_: these consisted of his
clothes, torn into strips, and dyed in blood, with fragments sufficient
of flesh and bone to attest the hideous fact, that the ravenous brutes,
had, after their last long fast, sprung upon their tormentor, (awful
retribution!) even at the very moment when he appeared amongst them with
their long delayed meal, torn him in pieces, and devoured him!

Lord Mortimer, though, he could not in conscience blame his canine
favourites, nor forbear regarding his huntsman's fate as a signal
instance of the retributive justice of Providence, felt himself obliged
to destroy the whole pack, after their ferocious banquet on human flesh;
and with tears in his eyes, he forced himself to witness their
execution, lest the cupidity or misjudging kindness of any of his
retainers, should induce them to mitigate the culprits' doom. The horrid
story spread far and wide, and one of its earliest results was the
appearance at Castle Mortimer of a poor woman and three young children,
who stated in an agony of grief, that _she_ was the lawful _wife_ of the
deceased Charles Elliott, whom he had maintained in a distant town, unto
whom his visits, when off duty at the Castle, and absent without leave,
were sometimes paid, and who, with her children, being suddenly bereaved
by his awful demise of their sole hope and support, now humbly threw
themselves upon the benevolence of Lord Mortimer for employment and
subsistence!