did　none　of　these　things。　He　simply　remained　at　Wincot；　living　as
  suspiciously　strange　and　solitary　a　life　as　his　father　had　lived
  before　him。　Literally；　there　was　now　no　companion　for　him　at　the
  Abbey　but　the　old　priestthe　Monktons；　I　should　have　mentioned
  before；　were　Roman　Catholicswho　had　held　the　office　of　tutor　to
  Alfred　from　his　earliest　years。　He　came　of　age；　and　there　was　not
  even　so　much　as　a　private　dinner…party　at　Wincot　to　celebrate　the
  event。　Families　in　the　neighborhood　determined　to　forget　the
  offense　which　his　father's　reserve　had　given　them；　and　invited
  him　to　their　houses。　The　invitations　were　politely　declined。
  Civil　visitors　called　resolutely　at　the　Abbey；　and　were　as
  resolutely　bowed　away　from　the　doors　as　soon　as　they　had　left
  their　cards。　Under　this　combination　of　sinister　and　aggravating
  circumstances　people　in　all　directions　took　to　shaking　their
  heads　mysteriously　when　the　name　of　Mr。　Alfred　Monkton　was
  mentioned；　hinting　at　the　family　calamity；　and　wondering
  peevishly　or　sadly；　as　their　tempers　inclined　them；　what　he　could
  possibly　do　to　occupy　himself　month　after　month　in　the　lonely　old
  house。
  The　right　answer　to　this　question　was　not　easy　to　find。　It　was
  quite　useless；　for　ex　ample；　to　apply　to　the　priest　for　it。　He
  was　a　very　quiet；　polite　old　gentleman；　his　replies　were　always
  excessively　ready　and　civil；　and　appeared　at　the　time　to　convey
  an　immense　quantity　of　information；　but　when　they　came　to　be
  reflected　on；　it　was　universally　observed　that　nothing　tangible
  could　ever　be　got　out　of　them。　The　housekeeper；　a　weird　old
  woman；　with　a　very　abrupt　and　repelling　manner；　was　too　fierce
  and　taciturn　to　be　safely　approached。　The　few　indoor　servants　had
  all　been　long　enough　in　the　family　to　have　learned　to　hold　their
  tongues　in　public　as　a　regular　habit。　It　was　only　from　the
  farm…servants　who　supplied　the　table　at　the　Abbey　that　any
  information　could　be　obtained；　and　vague　enough　it　was　when　they
  came　to　communicate　it。
  Some　of　them　had　observed　the　〃young　master〃　walking　about　the
  library　with　heaps　of　dusty　papers　in　his　hands。　Others　had　heard
  odd　noises　in　the　uninhabited　parts　of　the　Abbey；　had　looked　up；
  and　had　seen　him　forcing　open　the　old　windows；　as　if　to　let　light
  and　air　into　the　rooms　supposed　to　have　been　shut　close　for　years
  and　years；　or　had　discovered　him　standing　on　the　perilous　summit
  of　one　of　the　crumbling　turrets；　never　ascended　before　within
  their　memories；　and　popularly　considered　to　be　inhabited　by　the
  ghosts　of　the　monks　who　had　once　possessed　the　building。　The
  result　of　these　observations　and　discoveries；　when　they　were
  communicated　to　others；　was　of　course　to　impress　every　one　with　a
  firm　belief　that　〃poor　young　Monkton　was　going　the　way　that　the
  rest　of　the　family　had　gone　before　him；〃　which　opinion　always
  appeared　to　be　immensely　strengthened　in　the　popular　mind　by　a
  convictionfounded　on　no　particle　of　evidencethat　the　priest
  was　at　the　bottom　of　all　the　mischief。
  Thus　far　I　have　spoken　from　hearsay　evidence　mostly。　What　I　have
  next　to　tell　will　be　the　result　of　my　own　personal　experience。
  CHAPTER　II。
  ABOUT　five　months　after　Alfred　Monkton　came　of　age　I　left
  college；　and　resolved　to　amuse　and　instruct　myself　a　little　by
  traveling　abroad。
  At　the　time　when　I　quitted　England　young　Monkton　was　still
  leading　his　secluded　life　at　the　Abbey；　and　was；　in　the　opinion
  of　everybody；　sinking　rapidly；　if　he　had　not　already　succumbed；
  under　the　hereditary　curse　of　his　family。　As　to　the　Elmslies；
  report　said　that　Ada　had　benefited　by　her　sojourn　abroad；　and
  that　mother　and　daughter　were　on　their　way　back　to　England　to
  resume　their　old　relations　with　the　heir　of　Wincot。　Before　they
  returned　I　was　away　on　my　travels；　and　wandered　half　over　Europe；
  hardly　ever　planning　whither　I　should　shape　my　course　beforehand。
  Chance；　which　thus　led　me　everywhere；　led　me　at　last　to　Naples。
  There　I　met　with　an　old　school　friend；　who　was　one　of　the
  _attaches_　at　the　English　embassy；　and　there　began　the
  extraordinary　events　in　connection　with　Alfred　Monkton　which　form
  the　main　interest　of　the　story　I　am　now　relating。
  I　was　idling　away　the　time　one　morning　with　my　friend　the
  _attache_　in　the　garden　of　the　Villa　Reale；　when　we　were　passed
  by　a　young　man；　walking　alone；　who　exchanged　bows　with　my　friend。
  I　thought　I　recognized　the　dark；　eager　eyes；　the　colorless
  cheeks；　the　strangely…vigilant；　anxious　expression　which　I
  remembered　in　past　times　as　characteristic　of　Alfred　Monkton's
  face；　and　was　about　to　question　my　friend　on　the　subject；　when　he
  gave　me　unasked　the　information　of　which　I　was　in　search。
  〃That　is　Alfred　Monkton；〃　said　he；　〃he　comes　from　your　part　of
  England。　You　ought　to　know　him。〃
  〃I　do　know　a　little　of　him；〃　I　answered；　〃he　was　engaged　to　Miss
  Elmslie　when　I　was　last　in　the　neighborhood　of　Wincot。　Is　he
  married　to　her　yet？〃
  〃No；　and　he　never　ought　to　be。　He　has　gone　the　way　of　the　rest　of
  the　familyor；　in　plainer　words；　he　has　gone　mad。〃
  〃Mad！　But　I　ought　not　to　be　surprised　at　hearing　that；　after　the
  reports　about　him　in　England。〃
  〃I　speak　from　no　reports；　I　speak　from　what　he　has　said　and　done
  before　me；　and　before　hundreds　of　other　people。　Surely　you　must
  have　heard　of　it？〃
  〃Never。　I　have　been　out　of　the　way　of　news　from　Naples　or　England
  for　months　past。〃
  〃Then　I　have　a　very　extraordinary　story　to　tell　you。　You　know；　of
  course；　that　Alfred　had　an　uncle；　Stephen　Monkton。　Well；　some
  time　ago　this　uncle　fought　a　duel　in　the　Roman　States　with　a
  Frenchman；　who　shot　him　dead。　The　seconds　and　the　Frenchman　（who
  was　unhurt）　took　to　flight　in　different　directions；　as　it　is
  supposed。　We　heard　nothing　here　of　the　details　of　the　duel　till　a
  month　after　it　happened；　when　one　of　the　French　journals
  published　an　account　of　it；　taken　from　the　papers　left　by
  Monkton's　second；　who　died　at　Paris　of　consumption。　These　papers
  stated　the　manner　in　which　the　duel　was　fought；　and　how　it
  terminated；　but　nothing　more。　The　surviving　second　and　the
  Frenchman　have　never　been　traced　from　that　time　to　this。　All　that
  anybody　knows；　therefore；　of　the　duel　is　that　Stephen　Monkton　was
  shot；　an　event　which　nobody　can　regret；　for　a　greater　scoundrel
  never　existed。　The　exact　place　where　he　died；　and　what　was　done
  with　the　body　are　still　mysteries　not　to　be　penetrated。〃
  〃But　what　has　all　this　to　do　with　Alfred？〃
  〃Wait　a　moment；　and　you　will　hear。　Soon　after　the　news　of　his
  uncle's　death　reached　England；　what　do　you　think　Alfred　did？　He
  actually　put　off　his　marriage　with　Miss　Elmslie；　which　was　then
  about　to　be　celebrated；　to　come　out　here　in　search　of　the
  burial…place　of　his　wretched　scamp　of　an　uncle；　and　no　power　on
  earth　will　now　induce　him　to　return　to　England　and　to　Miss
  Elmslie　until　he　has　found　the　body；　and　can　take　it　back　with
  him；　to　be　buried　with　all　the　other　dead　Monktons　in　the　vault
  under　Wincot　Abbey　Chapel。　He　has　squandered　his　money；　pestered
  the　police；　and　exposed　himself　to　the　ridicule　of　the　men　and
  the　indignation　of　the　women　for　the　last　three　months　in　trying
  to　achieve　his　insane　purpose；　and　is　now　as　far　from　it　as　ever。
  He　will　not　assign　to　anybody　the　smallest　motive　for　his
  conduct。　You　can't　laugh　him　out　of　it　or　reason　him　out　of　it。
  When　we　met　him　just　now；　I　happen　to　know　that　he　was　on　his　way
  to　the　office　of　the　police　minister；　to　send　out　fresh　agents　to
  search　and　inquire　through　the　Roman　States　for　the　place　where
  his　uncle　was　shot。　And；　mind；　all　this　time　he　professes　to　be
  passionately　in　love　with　Miss　Elmslie；　and　to　be　miserable　at
  his　separation　from　her。　Just　think　of　that！　And　then　think　of
  his　self…imposed　absence　from　her　here；　to　hunt　after　the　remains
  of　a　wretch　who　was　a　disgrace　to　the　family；　and　whom　he　never
  saw　but　once　or　twice　in　his　life。　Of　all　the　'Mad　Monktons；'　as
  they　used　to　call　them　in　England；　Alfred　is　the　maddest。　He　is
  actually　our　principal　excitement　in　this　dull　opera　season；
  though；　for　my　own　part；　when　I　think　of　the　poor　girl　in
  England；　I　am　a　great　deal　more　ready　to　despise　him　than　to
  laugh　at　him。〃
  〃You　know　the　Elmslies　then？〃
  〃Intimately。　The　other　day　my　mother　wrote　to　me　from　England；
  after　having　seen　Ada。　This　escapade　of　Monkton's　has　outraged
  all　her　friends。　They　have　been　entreating　her　to　break　off　the
  match；　which　it　seems　she　could　do　if　she　liked。　Even　her　mother；
  sordid　and　selfish　as　she　is；　has　been　obliged　at　last；　in　common
  decency；　to　side　with　the　rest　of　the　family；　but　the　good；
  faithful　girl　won't　give　Monkton　up。　She　humors　his　insanity；
  declares　he　gave　her　a　good　reason　in　secret　for　going　away；　says
  she　could　always　make　him　happy　when　they　were　together　in　the
  old　Abbey；　and　can　make　him　still　happier　when　they　are　married；
  in　short；　she　loves　him　dearly；　and　will　therefore　believe　in　him
  to　the　last。　Nothing　shakes　her。　She　has　made　up　her　mind　to
  throw　away　her　life　on　him；　and　she　will　do　it。〃
  〃I　hope　not。　Mad　as　his　conduct　looks　to　us；　he　may　have　some
  sensible　reason　for　it　that　we　cannot　imagine。　Does　his　mind　seem
  at　all　disordered　when　he　talks　on　ordinary　topics？〃
  〃Not　in　the　least。　When　you　can　get　him　to　s