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RELICS OF POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS. 



crept into it. Old Arthur Morris lias great love for you, and my 

 client must know what money is left, and where it is. Let Lil- 

 lian's father give it all to her, and she may give it to her hus- 

 band." 



This hint was sufficiently intelligible. Maud received it with a 

 churlish sort of smile, and Idwal with a cry of antic joy, as if in 

 his zeal to comfort his disgraced cousin, he had forgotton that 

 such a gift would deprive him of all share in his uncle's wealth, 

 on which he depended for subsistence. They took Lillian, not- 

 withstanding her tears and resistance, into another chamber, where 

 her father lay in the heedless stupor which had hung on him for 

 many years. Maud had been a miser's concubine too long not to 

 know when and how to be a virago. She pointed to her weeping 

 and dishevelled daughter, accused him of barring her marriage 

 by his avarice, and beckoning the lawyer, who had come prepared 

 with a deed of gift in due form, urged him, with shrill and vehe- 

 ment entreaties, to sign it. The infirm old man, whose hfe and 

 intellects were wasted to their last spark, suddenly raised himself 

 from his mattrass, drew aside the long loose hair which poor Lil- 

 lian had shaken over her face, and seemed endeavouring to recol- 

 lect her. Then his eyes fixed themselves on her mother, whose 

 harsh features were reddened by the light she held over the parch- 

 ment she required him to sign. " Woman," said he, laying his 

 hand on it with a quivering and convulsive grasp, I do give thee 

 all — all ye have come here to ask for. Thou hast shut my gate 

 against my first-born, and driven him from my hearth — so thy 

 own children's children shall, have neither gate nor hearth, kindred 

 nor guardians, except among wild kites and ravens. Thou hast 

 been an adder in my house, and the wolf will come into thine." 

 Maud trembled, and drew back; and Arthur, pointing to the 

 meagre attorney, whom he probably mistook, in the disorder of 

 his darkening ideas, for his presumptive heir, added, ''David 

 G Wynne, thou hast come into my land to make my child poor — 

 see that thy own be not wanderers, and cast out. Take my land 

 and feed the worms in it." The last contortion of death mingled 

 with the grim smile of vindictive scorn as he spoke, and his eyes 

 stiffened before the sudden flash of ire had faded in them. He 

 expired, and Lillian's mother, after a few hysteric screams, vented 

 her impotent grief and rage on the man of law, who skulked away 

 from the storm, satisfied that his client might now possess the 



