'Scarcely had he done so when, under the power of his exorcism, the mantle, ruff, and plume of the pretended knight turned to bracken leaves, his goblin chain to wild holly, and he stood forth in all his deformity, a horror to the eye, half man and half goat, with the face of a baffled and exasperated fiend—the Urisk, or wood goblin; and, with a malignant yell, he vanished down the fast-darkening dingle!'
'And Muriel?' asked Holcroft, who had listened to all with such a smile as his face might be expected to wear.
'Was saved, of course,' said Eveline.
'And lived happy ever after?'
'Well—content at least, let us hope. She died a nun in the house of the English Benedictines at Paris—now the convent of the Val de Grace.'
'And has this legend a moral?' asked Holcroft, mockingly.
'Of course it has,' answered Allan, rather bluntly, yet with a quiet smile; 'it gave a good hint to the girls at Dundargue to beware of the attentions of unaccredited strangers.'
Holcroft's colour changed for a moment, and not unnoticed by Allan; for perhaps, reading between the lines, all this seemed somewhat a parable to the former, who tugged at his yellow moustaches in a way he did when irritated, heedless that pomade hongroise was disastrous to straw-coloured gloves.
The angry gleam that crossed the eyes of Holcroft was also noticed by Evan Cameron, who, for some reason as yet only known to himself, could not abide him; though certainly the latter did not cross him by any attentions to the penniless Eveline Graham.
Her little tradition came as a pleasant interlude to nearly all, for save Sir Paget—always confident and genial—no one seemed quite at ease, as a sense of cross-purposes brooded over them.