Over the mantelpiece in his study hangs the
portrait of his brother antiquary, painted by our artist, Vandyke
McGuilp, while in a corner of the room is a well executed bust in the
best Carrara white marble, representing the same features. He has also
inherited the whole of his friend Oldstone's collection of antiquities,
which are now added to his own, and make, together, a very respectable
museum, which he is ever proud of showing to his visitors when they
call. *       *       *       *       *

Let us now return to the hostel of the "Headless Lady," where our host
and hostess are left alone in their glory, for even Mr. Hardcase has at
length taken his departure and settled in some neighbouring town. They
are seated at some distance apart from each other, no longer looking
tenderly and lovingly into each others' faces as of yore, but askance,
as if they had had some matrimonial quarrel, which neither felt inclined
to be the first to make up. Jack Hearty's hands are thrust deeply into
his pockets, his legs extended, his brows knit, and his eyes fixed upon
the ground; while his spouse, usually so active and so busy, to whom
nothing was greater pain than being forced to be idle, was now lolling
in a listless attitude, her arms dangling idly at her sides with an
expression on her face of the most intense boredom. One who knew them
both would no longer recognise in these two melancholy persons our
jovial host and hostess of former days. "Tell you what it is, Molly," began Jack, at length, "D----d if I don't
think this house is haunted." "Why so, Jack?" enquired the dame, wearily. "Have you not noticed since Mr. Oldstone's death--nay, before--ever
since our dear Helen left her home, that a curse seems to have fallen
upon this house?" demanded Jack. "True, I feel an unaccountable depression of spirits, but still I
thought it nothing but the weather," rejoined his spouse. "It's not that only," persisted her husband. "Fair or foul weather, it
is just the same to me. See how our custom has fallen off." "Naturally; now that the members of the club have all departed," replied
Molly. "It's lonely like, not seeing a human face all day long." "It's worse than that," continued Jack. "Haven't you felt--well, I don't
know how to say it--as if--as if--some danger were hanging over our
heads?" "Lor, Jack!" cried our hostess, "Who'ld ever have thought to hear _you_
talk like that? Well, Jack, to tell you the truth--though I never liked
to mention the matter before, for fear you should laugh at me--I confess
I never _have_ felt quite myself since the night of that tragedy." "That's it. Depend upon it," said her husband. "The spot has become
accursed. I lose my appetite and sleep; feel weak and nervous; start at
the merest sound, while ever and anon I have the sensation as if
someone were looking over my shoulder. If perchance I shut my eyes, I
see before me all that took place upon that fearful night. I hear the
stairs creak, and see that ruffian clasping our dear Helen in his arms. I hear her screams for help, whilst I seem to see myself lying drugged
and helpless, incapable of running to her assistance." "Oh, Jack! and so have I," replied his spouse. "I too have dreamed that
dream. It will not go from me. Each time I close my eyes---- Hark! What
was that? A footstep, I'll be sworn." "Ay, ay," assented Jack; "I hear them oft, myself." It was now growing late, and our host went to fetch a jug of his own nut
brown ale, and filled himself up a glass, which he drained at a draught,
then filled himself up another. "You drink more than you used to, Jack," remarked the wife of his bosom. "I've seen you look very muddled of late. Don't let it grow upon you. Don't, now, there's a dear." But to his wife's tender injunctions he turned a deaf ear, and continued
to fill up again and again, and yet again, until he was perfectly
mellow. "Oh! Jack, Jack," cried Dame Hearty, despairingly, "I knew how it would
be. Don't, don't; you'll break my heart." "What the ---- does it matter to you?" demanded her husband, "'s long 's
I leave you alone (hic)." Here some altercation took place between the two which we will not
record; as, in such moods, our landlord was rarely very choice in his
language. It was with considerable difficulty that Dame Hearty succeeded
at length in getting her worse half upstairs and to bed. We grieve to be obliged to record that on the following night there was
a repetition of this painful scene, and the night after that, too. In
spite of his poor wife's prayers and entreaties, he grew from bad to
worse. Jack Hearty had become a confirmed drunkard. When in his cups his
nature appeared completely changed. He who, up to the present, had
enjoyed the reputation of being the kindest and most loving of husbands,
the most genial of men, had now become morose, coarse, blasphemous,
cantankerous, and cruel. His poor wife was in despair, and could do
nothing but cry or go into hysterics. It was one stormy night, when our host of the "Headless Lady" had
dragged himself upstairs more intoxicated than ever, that he let fall
the candle, which immediately set fire to the bed curtains, and in an
instant the room was in flames. Our host was so dazed as to be incapable
of saving himself, and if it had not been for Dame Hearty's presence of
mind, who managed to drag her husband downstairs in time, both might
have perished in the flames. The position of the inn, as we know, was isolated. Before help could be
procured the fine old hostel, that had stood for centuries, and whose
walls had resounded so long with the mirth and laughter of our jovial
members, was now a charred and shapeless ruin. *       *       *       *       *

"Well, Jack, I hope you're satisfied now," said his better-half, as the
loving couple tucked themselves into a spare bed at the house of a
neighbour, who had taken them in out of charity. Our host was now quite sober, having had to walk a mile at least through
the bleak wind and driving snow, so he turned, in a humbled and penitent
manner, towards his wife, crying, "Oh, Molly, Molly, how can you ever
forgive me? Oh! what a fool I have been! If I had only listened to you
at first. But, there--it's the drink--the cursed drink--that makes a
beast of a man. I vow I will never touch a drop of drink again as long
as I live." "Dear Jack, I believe you," replied his spouse. "Be your old self
again," and with one loving kiss all past troubles were forgotten. "Ah! Molly, Molly, you're something like a wife. Never will I for the
future give you any cause for complaint." And he kept his word. Jack Hearty was a reformed man. *       *       *       *       *

We now approach the end of our story. Our hero and heroine, after a
prolonged honeymoon in the sunny south, which to Helen was like a dream
of Paradise, found themselves reluctantly compelled to return to England
in order to superintend certain matters of business connected with their
country house and estate.