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Updated: June 12, 2025
This was my old great-uncle's story. Now he took my hand, and whilst his eyes filled with tears, he said, in a broken voice, "Cousin, cousin! And she too the beautiful lady has fallen a victim to the dark destiny, the grim, mysterious power which has established itself in that old ancestral castle.
Before that, they had lived in a much smaller house away at the other side of the town. Then Uncle Walter's uncle who had brought him up just as he was bringing up Jims had died, and they had all come to live in Uncle Walter's old home. Somehow, Jims had an idea that Uncle Walter wasn't very glad to come back there. But he had to, according to great-uncle's will. Jims himself didn't mind much.
"'We has tum to see 'oo, said Margaret, giving him a very burry hug, for as she threw her arms around his neck, the burs in her hair caught in his heavy beard. Margaret screamed as her hair pulled, and they had some trouble to get her disentangled. "'We hasn't yunned away, Uncle Darling. We has came in a carriage, said Jean. "The gentleman was a business friend of your great-uncle's.
At the time just mentioned, the orphaned Ruth had appeared at her great-uncle's mill on the Lumano River, near Cheslow, in one of the New England States, and had been taken in by the miserly old miller rather under protest. But Aunt Alvirah Boggs, who was Uncle Jabez Potter's housekeeper, had loved the child from the very beginning.
And he looked kindly at the boy, who smiled. "Friends?" said Hoffland; "we are cousins!" "Cousins? Indeed!" "Certainly, my dear fellow," said Hoffland, with a delightful ease and bonhomie. "I have discovered that my great-grandmother married the cousin of an uncle of cousin Lucy's great-grandfather's wife's aunt; and moreover, that this aunt was the niece of my great-uncle's first wife's husband.
Denham looked at her as she sat in her grandfather's arm-chair, drawing her great-uncle's malacca cane smoothly through her fingers, while her background was made up equally of lustrous blue-and-white paint, and crimson books with gilt lines on them.
The cards and dice were going in her great-uncle's time, who drank himself to death forty years ago. "There used to be some packs of cards," said she, "in one of these drawers. I know I saw some there, only it's a long time back almost the only time I ever came into the room. I'll look.... Take care of the dust!"
I do not say that I wish I had never tasted a pheasant's egg myself, but, when I think of traps baited with valerian, of my great-uncle's great-coat nailed to the keeper's door, of the keeper's heavy-heeled boots, and of the impropriety of poaching, I feel, as a father, that it is desirable that you should never know that there are such things as eggs, and then you will be quite happy without them.
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