So he had started on his long journey through the wilderness, and here, at last, he is found, on the banks of the Miramichi, cheerful and active, engaged in his great work.

The reader was informed, at the close of the last chapter, that after the perplexing visions of the night, by the use of charms of which he well knew the power, Mr. Norton had cleared his brain of the unpleasant phantoms that had invaded it during his slumbers.  Being quick and forgetive in his mental operations, even while completing his toilet, he had formed a plan for an attack upon the kingdom of darkness lying around him.

As he entered the room, the scene of his last night’s adventure, his face beaming with cheerfulness and courage, Adele, who was just then laying the table, thought his appearance there like another sunrise.

After the morning salutations were over, he looked around the apartment, observing it, in its daylight aspect, with a somewhat puzzled air.  In some respects, it was entirely unlike what he had seen before.  The broad stone hearth, with its large blazing fire, the Dutch oven, the air of neatness and thrift, were like those of a New England kitchen, but here the resemblance ceased.

A paper-hanging, whose originally rich hues had become in a measure dimmed, covered the walls; and curious old pictures hung around; the chairs and tables were of heavy dark wood, elaborately and grotesquely carved, as was also the ebony clock in the corner, whose wonderful mechanism had so astonished him on the previous evening.  A low lounge, covered with a crimson material, occupied a remote corner of the room, with a Turkish mat spread on the floor before it.  At the head of the couch was a case, curiously carved, filled with books, and beneath, in a little niche in the wall, a yellow ivory crucifix.

It did not occur to the good man to make any comparison between this room with its peculiar adornings, and the Puritan kitchen with its stiff, stark furniture.  One of the latter description was found in his own home, and the place where his loved ones lived and moved, was to him invested with a beauty altogether independent of outward form and show.  But, as he looked around with an air of satisfaction, this room evidently pleased his eye, and he paid an involuntary tribute to its historic suggestiveness, by falling into a reverie concerning the life and times of the good Roman Catholic Fenelon, whose memoir and writings he had read.

Soon Adele called him to the breakfast-table.

Mrs. McNab not having made her appearance, he inquired if any tidings had been heard from the sick-room.  Mrs. Dubois replied, that she had listened at the door and hearing no sound, concluded Mr. Brown was quiet under the influence of the sleeping powder, and consequently, she did not run the risk of disturbing him by going in.

“Should Aunt Patty happen to begin snoring in her chair, as she often does”, said Adele, “Mr. Brown would be obliged to wake up.  I defy any one to sleep when she gets into one of those fits”.