With a sinking heart he groped about the bottom of the cask with the rod, and when its iron point struck against a round object that rolled over with a harsh sound on the bottom, he quickly thought of the casket of gems, and reaching down, with a thrill of excitement he clutched the mysterious, smooth object, and sprang out of the pit into the moonlight.
By the pale beams of the gibbous moon, now sinking low in the western sky, but throwing a path of shimmering silver on the bosom of the rippling brook, he saw—not the gems of Monteluma, but a human skull, that, with its wide, eyeless sockets, seemed to glare derisively, and with great white teeth laugh mockingly, at this ending of his "fortune hunting." With a cry of despair, the disheartened youth dashed the loathsome object to the earth; but, as if the sound of his voice had evoked its former spirit, there glided from out the wavering shadows a tall, gaunt form, gray-robed and silent, with tangled, flowing hair, and burning eyes, its lips drawn back from its snaggled fangs in a horrid look of hate and ferocity. With noiseless tread it seemed to float into the moonlit space; then snatching the skull from the ground and clasping it close to its breast, with an unearthly scream it faded away among the whispering willows.
Chapter XIII.
On the morning following that Walpurga Night, Clifford came down to the Warlow breakfast-table with a weary, feverish air, that caused his father to say:—
"My boy, you are far from well, I fear! This first day of harvest will be quite hard on all of us; the day promises to be hot and sultry; so perhaps you had better rest in-doors. We might send Robbie over on the Flats, and secure you a substitute until you are stronger."
At this poor Rob mumbled something about "a sixteen-year-old boy having more legs than a centipede;" a remark which he was careful to address to his plate, however, while Clifford replied:—
"Oh no, father; a cup of Maud's coffee will set me all right, I am certain." Then, as he poured a quantity of yellow cream into the cup of fragrant Rio, he added: "I was wakeful and did not rest well last night;" all of which we know was correct, if somewhat evasive.
"Oh, Cliff! I had the most terrifying dreams last night, in which you were, some way, always mixed up," said Maud wearily; "and although I can't remember anything distinctly, I am so nervous that I shiver even yet."
"So, madam, you feed the hungry harvester on Cold Shudder, garnished with scrambled Night-mare," said Bob, with a glance of contempt at the bacon and early potatoes, of which even his ravenous appetite was now weary. Then, as he broke an egg that was shockingly overdone, he added spitefully: "Why did you boil your door-knobs?"