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 The wind blew loud at times, and sounded mournfully, as it swept through the whispering leaves of the trees, over the dark forest and distant moors. A light appeared, for one moment, near the wood, and then was lost, Lady Margaret, as if palsied by terror, remained fixed and breathless on the spot;—a step approached the door;—it was the step of one stealing along, as if anxious no one should hear it pass. Again, all was silent:—so silent that the grave itself had not been more tranquil, and the dead could not have looked more pale, more calm, more still, than Lady Margaret!

But how was that silence broken? and how that calm disturbed?—By the shrieks of an agonized parent—by the burning tears of a heart-broken father—by the loud unrestrained clamours of the menial train; and that proud mansion, so lately the seat of gaiety, whose lighted porticos and festive halls had echoed to the song of joy and revelry, presented