Oswald swore secrecy till he should be permitted to disclose the mysteries of that apartment; and both of them waited, in solemn expectation, the event of the approaching night.

In the afternoon Mr. William was allowed to visit his friend.  An affecting interview passed between them.  He lamented the necessity of Edmund’s departure; and they took a solemn leave of each other, as if they foreboded it would be long ere they should meet again.

About the same hour as the preceding evening, Joseph came to conduct Edmund to his apartment.

“You will find better accommodations than you had last night,” said he, “and all by my lord’s own order.”

“I every hour receive some new proof of his goodness,” said Edmund.

When they arrived, he found a good fire in the chamber, and a table covered with cold meats, and a flagon of strong beer.

“Sit down and get your supper, my dear Master,” said Joseph:  “I must attend my Lord; but as soon as the family are gone to bed, I will visit you again.”

“Do so,” said Edmund; “but first, see Father Oswald; he has something to say to you.  You may trust him, for I have no reserves to him.”

“Well, Sir, I will see him if you desire it; and I will come to you as soon as possible.”  So saying, he went his way, and Edmund sat down to supper.

After a moderate refreshment, he kneeled down, and prayed with the greatest fervency.  He resigned himself to the disposal of Heaven:  “I am nothing,” said he, “I desire to be nothing but what thou, O Lord, pleasest to make me.  If it is thy will that I should return to my former obscurity, be it obeyed with cheerfulness; and, if thou art pleased to exalt me, I will look up to thee, as the only fountain of honour and dignity.”  While he prayed, he felt an enlargement of heart beyond what he had ever experienced before; all idle fears were dispersed, and his heart glowed with divine love and affiance;—­ he seemed raised above the world and all its pursuits.  He continued wrapt up in mental devotion, till a knocking at the door obliged him to rise, and let in his two friends, who came without shoes, and on tiptoe, to visit him.

“Save you, my son!” said the friar; “you look cheerful and happy.”

“I am so, father,” said Edmund; “I have resigned myself to the disposal of Heaven, and I find my heart strengthened above what I can express.”

“Heaven be praised!” said Oswald:  “I believe you are designed for great things, my son.”

“What! do you too encourage my ambition?” says Edmund; strange concurrence of circumstances!—­ Sit down, my friends; and do you, my good Joseph, tell me the particulars you promised last night.”  They drew their chairs round the fire, and Joseph began as follows:—­

“You have heard of the untimely death of the late Lord Lovel, my noble and worthy master; perhaps you may have also heard that, from that time, this apartment was haunted.  What passed the other day, when my Lord questioned you both on this head, brought all the circumstances fresh into my mind.  You then said, there were suspicions that he came not fairly to his end.  I trust you both, and will speak what I know of it.  There was a person suspected of this murder; and whom do you think it was?”