He was—a millionaire. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. In a fit of despondency, superinduced by drunkenness, he made away with himself; and when the body was discovered, after a lapse of some months, such was the impression produced by the spectacle —such the alarm occasioned by the crazy state of the building, and, above all, by the terror inspired by strange and unearthly noises heard during the night, which were, of course, attributed to the spirit of the suicide, that the place speedily enjoyed the reputation of being haunted, and was, consequently, entirely abandoned.
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