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