of his being, listening to a voice which he could hear and I could not; for he made quick answers.  ‘I hear, Sire,’ he said, in a strange, muffled voice.  And he rose suddenly to his feet and cried, ’I come, Master, I come.’  Then a great rage and fear possessed me, for I knew that my boy was being called by some foul spirit, and that he was bewitched.  I sprang up and seized him in my arms.  ‘Thou shalt not go!’ I cried aloud.  ’He has given thee back to me.  I am thy father.  Thy place is here.  I will not let thee go!’ But I might have been speaking to a dead corpse for all the understanding I received.  My boy’s eyes were opened, but he saw me not.  His ears, that heard other voices, were deaf to mine.  He struggled fiercely against my fatherly embrace; and when I felt the strength that had come into that frame, so worn and feeble but a few short hours ago, then I knew that it was the devil himself who had entered into my child, and that it was his voice that was luring him back to his destruction.  O my God!  May I never have to live again through the agony of that hour in which I fought with the devil for my child, and fought in vain.  Like one possessed (as indeed he was) did he wrestle with me, crying out wildly all the while that he was coming —­ that he would quickly come; hearing nothing that I could hear, seeing nothing that I could see, and all the time struggling with me with a strength that I knew must at last prevail, albeit he was but a tender child and I a man in the prime of manhood’s strength.  But the devil was in him that night.  It was not my boy’s own hand that struck the blow which forced me to leave my hold, and sent me staggering back against the wall.  No, it was but the evil spirit within him; and even as I released him from my embrace, he glided to the door, undid the fastenings, and still calling out that he was coming, that he would be there anon, he slipped out into the still forest, and vanished amongst the trees.”

“Did he return to Basildene?”

“Ay, like a bird to its nest, a dog to its master’s home.  Spent and breathless, despairing as I was, I yet gathered my strength and followed my boy —­ weeping and calling upon his name, though I knew he heard me not.  Scarce could I keep the gliding figure in sight; yet I could not choose but follow, lest some mischance should befall the child by the way.  But he moved onwards as if he trod on air, neither stumbling nor falling, nor turning to the right hand or to the left.  I watched him to the end of the avenue of trees that leads to Basildene.  As he reached it a dark figure stepped forth, and the child sank to the ground as if exhausted.  There was the sound of laughter —­ fiends’ laughter, if ever devils do laugh.  It chilled the very blood in my veins, and I stood rooted to the spot, whilst the hair of my head stood erect.  The dark form bent over the boy and seemed to raise it.