Year: 1876


that" Lily looked, as she felt, especially ag-
grieved, for she had always been Mr.. Lyndon's
pet daughter more with him than any of the
other children, and considered that on that &C.
count she was particularly entitled to his con.
6dence. And this new phase of bis character
was so surprising that she could not refrain
from speaking about it.


"Perhaps it is some difficulty in parish
matters" Mrs. Lyndon went on, anxious to
justify him in their daughters eyes. "That
would naturally depress him, and make him
act in way that might seem little unac-
countable, sometimes.


"But why should you not know, mamma, if
it were so? Doesn't he tell you everything p


"He does, usually" Mrs. Lyndon admitted
"But one can't tell what little difficulties
might spring up, that he would not be willing
to discuss with anybody. I suppose it is so
with every one, once in while"


II never thought papa was one to have any
concealments, or make mysteries of things"
said Lily. "And everything in the parish
seems to be going on we'll, as far as I can see."


Sometimes the distemper took new turn,
and displayed itself in fits of unusual gayety
and excitement. The rector would take
Daisy on his knee, tell her funny stories, make
the most absurd jokes, and laugh extrava-
gantly at hisown conceits; would talk loudly
and rapidly to his wife and daughters, discus
sing dozen topics in breath; would slap his
boys on the sholder, and ask them all sorts of
comical questions about their doings at school;
in short, comport himself in the most erratic
and undigni6ed fashion, which disquieted his
wife even more than his gloom and taciturnity
would do. That something was wrong, and
that more than mere passing annoyance,
she felt more and more convinced but though
her anxiety and distress grew in strength as
time went on, she strove in vain to get at the
root of the disorder. There were days again,
when his former self seemed to return, his
querulousness disappeared, and he would be
once more genial, afectionate and kind for
q nature so intrinsically good could not be at
once overmastered, or its better feelings COM
pletely thrown into the background without
a struggle. But these intervals of self-asser-
ton only made his contrasting moods more
unpleasant; and they grew, besides, rarer and
rarer. until his family came to regard them,
unhappily, as the exceptions rather than the
rule. A shadow had stolen over the once
bright happy household, not acknowledged,
but daily and hourly felt. The unrestraiped
confidence which had existed between the
head of the family and the other members
was impaired; the trail of the serpent had
entered the little Eden, and its baneful inau-
ence withered the pure domestic joys in which
its inmates had once revelled. The only per-
son there unconscious of the change was the
Captain. He was too constantly secluded in
his own room to know much of what went on





occasions of their intercourse, seemed to him
unchanged.


He did not know, poor man, that it was on
ly by exerting careful command over him
self that the rector succeeded in maintaining
bis usual demeanor toward him. He did
not know that with the growth Of covetous-
ness another evil feeling, deadly in its nature
and effects, had sprung also into life-a feel
ing so subtle that it did not betray itself even
to the heart where it existed, until so strength.
ened and encompassed by surrounding pas
sions that it dared to creep into view; feel
ing akin to that which had first brought
death into the world, and stained the shud-
dering earth with Abel's blood.


How, or when, the cravings of avarice had
first linked themselves to this dark ker thought
in what manner they had first awakened dim,
underlined desire for the time to come, when,
by the death of its present possessor, the
treasure on which he had set his heart would
fall into his hands, the rector never knew. He
seemed to be encompassed in a net whose
meshes were ever twining more fatally about
him. Like struggling fly in the web Of its
enemy, each frantic effort to escape only les
seued his chances of liberty, and bound him
more firmly in the snare. For he did strug-
gle, hard and desperately against Satan's
wiles at first. He shrank in horror and self.
loathing from the knowledge of his secret
sin but the voice of conscience grew fainter,
or his ears closed themselves to its cry. His
moral perceptions seemed weakened; blind
ness fell upon his eyes. 1t was as though a
dark enchantment were cast over him, distort-
ing all things to his mental view.


And there, under his eyes, like grim, mo-
tionless 6end, prompting him onward in his
evil course, stood the iron chest, mocking him
with its security and strength, which baffled
curiosity, and laid an impossible barrier be-
tween his longing vision and the Secret it
enshrined.


CHAPTER w.


A year had elapsed since Sir Henry Lyn.
don's bequest had come into the Captains
possession; and affairs continued in much
the same state as the last chapter has des-
cribed-the rector being by turns fretful and
gloomy, or unnaturally gay and excited still