J. S. Le Fanu's Ghostly Tales, Volume 3

Bank

o her sanctuary, and there found Philip Feltram awai

clutched his cane so hard that it quivered in his grasp, he had no notion of committing the outrage of a blow. The Baronet was unusually angry notwithstanding, and

ave done your-your-whatever it is." He whisked the point of his stick t

then turning suddenly on his heel he led the way to his library-a good long march, with a good many turnings. He walked very fast, and was not long in getti

that he could not take his eyes off him, and returned his grim an

from the door-a wide stretch of that wide floor still intervening between him and Sir Bale, who stood upon th

o; come nearer now. I don't want to

voice and paused, with

said he, "that you said you wished y

I thin

wished to get away. I have nothing particular to say agains

Sir Bale? I d

ave got it-a Bank-of-England note of ￡100-locked up in that desk;" and he poked the end of his cane against the brass lock of it viciously. "There it is, and there are the papers you work at; and t

xactly what, he was not yet sure; and being a man of that unhappy temperament which sh

'll make mine short. When I take my key, intending to send the note to pay the crown and quit-rents that you know-you-you-no matter-you know we

hard insulting eye, poor Feltram winced, and clear

have access to this desk. You wish to go away, and I have no objection to that-but d-n me if you take

xclaimed poor Feltram

ach; and it's like parting with a tooth to give up a bank-note. Of course you're ill, but

Maker st

hang you. I'm willing to let you off if you'll let me, but I'm cursed if I let my note off along with you;

ke?" exclaimed

plied Sir Bale. "You don't ha

mpossible! You can't believe it. When did I ever wrong you?

st int

You know devilish well I can't spare it; and I won

ill he had again reached the housekeeper's door that he recollected in what direction he was going. His shut hand was pressed with all his force to his heart, and t

was he made acquainted with his real capacity for pain, and how near he might be to madness and yet ret

He was still convinced that Feltram had stolen the note, but not quite so certain as he ha

he evening shadow of the house, looking towards Snakes Island

t or wrong, he fancied knew more

scape-painting, acknowledged. But although he could pull a good oar, and liked other lakes, to this particular s

him; but if he does, superstition perches near. His boding was made-up of omens, dreams, and such

ed to its ring at the margin; but he would not have cro

hat lake, he could not define; but that some fatal danger lurked th

ilip Feltram; and the yellow level sunbeams touched his dark features, that bore a saturnine resemblanc

man looking for his hat when it is upon his head? Sir Bale was brooding over his double hatred, of Feltram and of the lake. It would have been better had he