But Littlecote House, the ancient seat of the Darrells, is renowned, writes Lord Macaulay, “not more on account of its venerable architecture and furniture, than on account of a horrible and mysterious crime which was perpetrated there in the days of the Tudors.”  One of the bedchambers, which is said to have been the scene of a terrible murder, contains a bedstead with blue furniture, which time has made dingy and threadbare.  In the bottom of one of the bed curtains is shown a strange place where a small piece has been cut out and sewn in again—­a circumstance which served to identify the scene of a remarkable story, in connection with which, however, there are several discrepancies.  According to one account, when Littlecote was in possession of its founders—­the Darrells—­a midwife of high repute dwelt in the neighbourhood, who, on returning home from a professional visit at a late hour of the night, had gone to rest only to be disturbed by one who desired to have her immediate help, little anticipating the terrible night’s adventure in store for her, and which shall be told in her own words: 

“As soon as she had unfastened the door, a hand was thrust in which struck down the candle, and at the same time pulled her into the road.  The person who had used these abrupt means desired her to tie a handkerchief over her head and not wait for a hat, and, leading her to a stile where there was a horse saddled, with a pillion on its back, he desired her to seat herself, and then, mounting, they set off at a brisk trot.  After travelling for an hour and a half, they entered a paved court, or yard, and her conductor, lifting her off her horse, led her into the house, and thus addressed her:  ’You must now suffer me to put this cap and bandage over your eyes, which will allow you to breathe and speak, but not to see.  Keep up your presence of mind; it will be wanted.  No harm will happen to you.’  Then, taking her into a chamber, he added, ’Now you are in a room with a lady in labour.  Perform your office well, and you shall be amply rewarded; but if you attempt to remove the bandage from your eyes, take the reward of your rashness.”

Shortly afterwards a male child was born, and as soon as this crisis was over the woman received a glass of wine, and was told to prepare to return home, but in the interval she contrived to cut off a small piece of the bed curtain—­an act which was supposed sufficient evidence to fix the mysterious transaction as having happened at Littlecote.  According to Sir Walter Scott, the bandage was first put over the woman’s eyes on her leaving her own house that she might be unable to tell which way she travelled, and was only removed when she was led into the mysterious bedchamber, where, besides the lady in labour, there was a man of a “haughty and ferocious” aspect.  As soon as the child was born, adds Scott, he demanded the midwife to give it him, and, hurrying across the room, threw it on the back of a fire that