'Yet why should I fear this man ?' I argued; but I did fear him--like the ghost of the dead Caesar in the camp of Brutus: he was my evil genius.

I turned very faint and asked for a glass of water.
"Charlotte gave it to me with a trembling hand.

The brother and sister exchanged glances of surprise; suspicion was aroused by my emotion.
"'Strange!' said Charlotte, musingly: 'he was always kind to my brother and me.

What have you to say against him ?' "'Not much; but I have a secret antipathy, a horror of this man, though I never saw him but once, and that when quite a boy.

I had a quarrel with his son when a lad, which produced a rupture between Sir Alexander and me, and neither father nor son ever forgave the imagined injury.' "Charlotte looked thoughtful.