His older childhood； too； the strange imaginings he had； his
terror of certain senseless things—familiar objects he endowed
with life； the slow and gradual breaking out of that one horror； in
which； before his birth； his darkened intellect began； how； in the
midst of all； she had found some hope and comfort in his being
unlike another child； and had gone on almost believing in the slow
development of his mind until he grew a man； and then his
childhood was complete and lasting； one after another； all these
old thoughts sprung up within her； strong after their long slumber
and bitterer than ever。
She took his arm and they hurried through the village street。 It
was the same as it was wont to be in old times； yet different too；
and wore another air。 The change was in herself； not it； but she
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never thought of that； and wondered at its alteration； and where it
lay； and what it was。
The people all knew Barnaby； and the children of the place
came flocking round him—as she remembered to have done with
their fathers and mothers round some silly beggarman； when a
child herself。 None of them knew her； they passed each well…
remembered house； and yard； and homestead； and striking into
the fields； were soon alone again。
The Warren was the end of their journey。 Mr Haredale was
walking in the garden； and seeing them as they passed the iron
gate； unlocked it； and bade them enter that way。
‘At length you have mustered heart to visit the old place；’ he
said to the widow。 ‘I am glad you have。’
‘For the first time； and the last； sir；’ she replied。
‘The first for many years； but not the last？’
‘The very last。’
‘You mean；’ said Mr Haredale； regarding her with some
surprise； ‘that having made this effort； you are resolved not to
persevere and are determined to relapse？ This is unworthy of you。
I have often told you； you should return here。 You would be
happier here than elsewhere； I know。 As to Barnaby； it’s quite his
home。’
‘And Grip’s；’ said Barnaby； holding the basket open。 The raven
hopped gravely out； and perching on his shoulder and addressing
himself to Mr Haredale； cried—as a hint； perhaps； that some
temperate refreshment would be acceptable—‘Polly put the ket…tle
on； we’ll all have tea！’
‘Hear me； Mary；’ said Mr Haredale kindly； as he motioned her
to walk with him towards the house。 ‘Your life has been an
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example of patience and fortitude； except in this one particular
which has often given me great pain。 It is enough to know that you
were cruelly involved in the calamity which deprived me of an
only brother； and Emma of her father； without being obliged to
suppose （as I sometimes am） that you associate us with the author
of our joint misfortunes。’
‘Associate you with him； sir！’ she cried。
‘Indeed；’ said Mr Haredale； ‘I think you do。 I almost believe that
because your husband was bound by so many ties to our relation；
and died in his service and defence； you have come in some sort to
connect us with his murder。’
‘Alas！’ she answered。 ‘You little know my heart； sir。 You little
know the truth！’
‘It is natural you should do so； it is very probable you may；
without being conscious of it；’ said Mr Haredale； speaking more to
himself than her。 ‘We are a fallen house。 Money； dispensed with
the most lavish hand； would be a poor recompense for sufferings
like yours； and thinly scattered by hands so pinched and tied as
ours； it becomes a miserable mockery。 I feel it so； God knows；’ he
added； hastily。 ‘Why should I wonder if she does！’
‘You do me wrong； dear sir； indeed；’ she rejoined with great
earnestness； ‘and yet when you come to hear what I desire your
leave to say—’
‘I shall find my doubts confirmed？’ he said； observing that she
faltered and became confused。 ‘Well！’
He quickened his pace for a few steps； but fell back again to her
side； and said：
‘And have you come all this way at last； solely to speak to me？’
She answered； ‘Yes。’
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‘A curse；’ he muttered； ‘upon the wretched state of us proud
beggars； from whom the poor and rich are equally at a distance；
the one being forced to treat us with a show of cold respect； the
other condescending to us in their every deed and word； and
keeping more aloof； the nearer they approach us。—Why； if it were
pain to you （as it must have been） to break for this slight purpose
the chain of habit forged through two…and…twenty years； could you
not let me know your wish； and beg me to come to you？’
‘There was not time； sir；’ she rejoined。 ‘I took my resolution but
last night； and taking it； felt that I must not lose a day—a day！ an
hour—in having speech with you。’
They had by this time reached the house。 Mr Haredale paused
for a moment； and looked at her as if surprised by the energy of
her manner。 Observing； however； that she took no heed of him；
but glanced up； shuddering； at the old walls with which such
horrors were connected in her mind； he led her by a private stair
into his library； where Emma was seated in a window； reading。
The young lady； seeing who approached； hastily rose and laid
aside her book； and with many kind words； and not without tears；
gave her a warm and earnest welcome。 But the widow shrunk
from her embrace as though she feared her； and sunk down
trembling on a chair。
‘It is the return to this place after so long an absence；’ said
Emma gently。 ‘Pray ring； dear uncle—or stay—Barnaby will run
himself and ask for wine—’
‘Not for the world；’ she cried。 ‘It would have another taste—I
could not touch it。 I want but a minute’s rest。 Nothing but that。’
Miss Haredale stood beside her chair； regarding her with silent
pity。 She remained for a little time quite still； then rose and turned
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to Mr Haredale； who had sat down in his easy chair； and was
contemplating her with fixed attention。
The tale connected with the mansion borne in mind； it seemed；
as has been already said； the chosen theatre for such a deed as it
had known。 The room in which this group were now assembled—
hard by the very chamber where the act was done—dull； dark； and
sombre； heavy with worm…eaten books； deadened and shut in by
faded hangings； muffling every sound； shadowed mournfully by
trees whose rustling boughs gave ever and anon a spectral
knocking at the glass； wore； beyond all others in the house； a
ghostly； gloomy air。 Nor were the group assembled there； unfitting
tenants of the spot。 The widow； with her marked and startling face
and downcast eyes； Mr Haredale stern and despondent ever； his
niece beside him； like； yet most unlike； the picture of her father；
which gazed reproachfully down upon them from the blackened
wall； Barnaby； with his vacant look and restless eye； were all in
keeping with the place； and actors in the legend。 Nay； the very
raven； who had hopped upon the table and with the air of some
old necromancer appeared to be profoundly studying a great folio
volume that lay open on a desk； was strictly in unison with the
rest； and looked like the embodied spirit of evil biding his time of
mischief。
‘I scarcely know；’ said the widow； breaking silence； ‘how to
begin。 You will think my mind disordered。’
‘The whole tenor of your quiet and reproachless life since you
were last here；’ returned Mr Haredale； mildly； ‘shall bear witness
for you。 Why do you fear to awaken such a suspicion？ You do not
speak to strangers。 You have not to claim our interest or
consideration for the first time。 Be more yourself。 Take heart。 Any
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advice or assistance that I can give you； you know is yours of right；
and freely yours。’
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