I stirred the fire. It was low, and would not blaze. I stood up, and, with
my hand on the mantelpiece, endeavoured to think of cheerful things. But
it was a struggle against wind and tide--vain; and so I drifted away into
haunted regions.
Uncle Silas was perfectly still. I would not suffer myself to think of the
number of dark rooms and passages which now separated me from the other
living tenants of the house. I awaited with a false composure the return of
old Wyat.
Over the mantelpiece was a looking-glass. At another time this might have
helped to entertain my solitary moments, but now I did not like to venture
a peep. A small thick Bible lay on the chimneypiece, and leaning its back
against the mirror, I began to read in it with a mind as attentively
directed as I could. While so engaged in turning over the leaves, I lighted
upon two or three odd-looking papers, which had been folded into it. One
was a broad printed thing, with names and dates written into blank spaces,
and was about the size of a quarter of a yard of very broad ribbon. The
others were mere scraps, with 'Dudley Ruthyn' penned in my cousin's vulgar
round-hand at the foot.
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