"I found them so interesting that I could not leave them until I had read the last word."
"And now you understand why I live here like a hermit, and why such strange stories are circulated about me?"
"I can see why stories are circulated about you certainly, but I cannot see why you live here so lonely and forsaken."
"But you read about the curse, and the way it worked itself out?"
"I read what might easily be explained in the light of to-day. Your grandfather saw things through the glasses of the time he wrote. Like all literature, it is a product of the age and surroundings of the writer, and must be judged accordingly."
"Ah, but you do not know all that followed. If you did you would not talk thus."
"No, I am here to-day to hear more, so interested have I become. I found yesterday that you were a man of culture and intellectual power, and I cannot help wondering that such a story could so influence you."
"No, honestly, I do not think I am a fool, and, believe me, I have read and studied, as few men have, in order to free myself from the fear that possesses me. Look at me! I look sixty years of age, and yet I am only fifty. Fear and dread have made me old. Naturally, I am fond of society, but an invisible presence, which always seems to confront me, makes me live alone, without friends, without companionship."
"Will you tell me the sequel of what I have read, then?" I said, anxiously, for I was greatly interested.
"Yes, I will tell you as plainly as I can. It is said that my grandfather—the writer of the confessions—died a terrible death, and that dread thoughts ever haunted him. Of that, however, I cannot speak authoritatively."