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did none of these things。 He simply remained at Wincot； living as
suspiciously strange and solitary a life as his father had lived
before him。 Literally； there was now no companion for him at the
Abbey but the old priestthe Monktons； I should have mentioned
before； were Roman Catholicswho had held the office of tutor to
Alfred from his earliest years。 He came of age； and there was not
even so much as a private dinner…party at Wincot to celebrate the
event。 Families in the neighborhood determined to forget the
offense which his father's reserve had given them； and invited
him to their houses。 The invitations were politely declined。
Civil visitors called resolutely at the Abbey； and were as
resolutely bowed away from the doors as soon as they had left
their cards。 Under this combination of sinister and aggravating
circumstances people in all directions took to shaking their
heads mysteriously when the name of Mr。 Alfred Monkton was
mentioned； hinting at the family calamity； and wondering
peevishly or sadly； as their tempers inclined them； what he could
possibly do to occupy himself month after month in the lonely old
house。
The right answer to this question was not easy to find。 It was
quite useless； for ex ample； to apply to the priest for it。 He
was a very quiet； polite old gentleman； his replies were always
excessively ready and civil； and appeared at the time to convey
an immense quantity of information； but when they came to be
reflected on； it was universally observed that nothing tangible
could ever be got out of them。 The housekeeper； a weird old
woman； with a very abrupt and repelling manner； was too fierce
and taciturn to be safely approached。 The few indoor servants had
all been long enough in the family to have learned to hold their
tongues in public as a regular habit。 It was only from the
farm…servants who supplied the table at the Abbey that any
information could be obtained； and vague enough it was when they
came to communicate it。
Some of them had observed the 〃young master〃 walking about the
library with heaps of dusty papers in his hands。 Others had heard
odd noises in the uninhabited parts of the Abbey； had looked up；
and had seen him forcing open the old windows； as if to let light
and air into the rooms supposed to have been shut close for years
and years； or had discovered him standing on the perilous summit
of one of the crumbling turrets； never ascended before within
their memories； and popularly considered to be inhabited by the
ghosts of the monks who had once possessed the building。 The
result of these observations and discoveries； when they were
communicated to others； was of course to impress every one with a
firm belief that 〃poor young Monkton was going the way that the
rest of the family had gone before him；〃 which opinion always
appeared to be immensely strengthened in the popular mind by a
convictionfounded on no particle of evidencethat the priest
was at the bottom of all the mischief。
Thus far I have spoken from hearsay evidence mostly。 What I have
next to tell will be the result of my own personal experience。
CHAPTER II。
ABOUT five months after Alfred Monkton came of age I left
college； and resolved to amuse and instruct myself a little by
traveling abroad。
At the time when I quitted England young Monkton was still
leading his secluded life at the Abbey； and was； in the opinion
of everybody； sinking rapidly； if he had not already succumbed；
under the hereditary curse of his family。 As to the Elmslies；
report said that Ada had benefited by her sojourn abroad； and
that mother and daughter were on their way back to England to
resume their old relations with the heir of Wincot。 Before they
returned I was away on my travels； and wandered half over Europe；
hardly ever planning whither I should shape my course beforehand。
Chance； which thus led me everywhere； led me at last to Naples。
There I met with an old school friend； who was one of the
_attaches_ at the English embassy； and there began the
extraordinary events in connection with Alfred Monkton which form
the main interest of the story I am now relating。
I was idling away the time one morning with my friend the
_attache_ in the garden of the Villa Reale； when we were passed
by a young man； walking alone； who exchanged bows with my friend。
I thought I recognized the dark； eager eyes； the colorless
cheeks； the strangely…vigilant； anxious expression which I
remembered in past times as characteristic of Alfred Monkton's
face； and was about to question my friend on the subject； when he
gave me unasked the information of which I was in search。
〃That is Alfred Monkton；〃 said he； 〃he comes from your part of
England。 You ought to know him。〃
〃I do know a little of him；〃 I answered； 〃he was engaged to Miss
Elmslie when I was last in the neighborhood of Wincot。 Is he
married to her yet？〃
〃No； and he never ought to be。 He has gone the way of the rest of
the familyor； in plainer words； he has gone mad。〃
〃Mad！ But I ought not to be surprised at hearing that； after the
reports about him in England。〃
〃I speak from no reports； I speak from what he has said and done
before me； and before hundreds of other people。 Surely you must
have heard of it？〃
〃Never。 I have been out of the way of news from Naples or England
for months past。〃
〃Then I have a very extraordinary story to tell you。 You know； of
course； that Alfred had an uncle； Stephen Monkton。 Well； some
time ago this uncle fought a duel in the Roman States with a
Frenchman； who shot him dead。 The seconds and the Frenchman （who
was unhurt） took to flight in different directions； as it is
supposed。 We heard nothing here of the details of the duel till a
month after it happened； when one of the French journals
published an account of it； taken from the papers left by
Monkton's second； who died at Paris of consumption。 These papers
stated the manner in which the duel was fought； and how it
terminated； but nothing more。 The surviving second and the
Frenchman have never been traced from that time to this。 All that
anybody knows； therefore； of the duel is that Stephen Monkton was
shot； an event which nobody can regret； for a greater scoundrel
never existed。 The exact place where he died； and what was done
with the body are still mysteries not to be penetrated。〃
〃But what has all this to do with Alfred？〃
〃Wait a moment； and you will hear。 Soon after the news of his
uncle's death reached England； what do you think Alfred did？ He
actually put off his marriage with Miss Elmslie； which was then
about to be celebrated； to come out here in search of the
burial…place of his wretched scamp of an uncle； and no power on
earth will now induce him to return to England and to Miss
Elmslie until he has found the body； and can take it back with
him； to be buried with all the other dead Monktons in the vault
under Wincot Abbey Chapel。 He has squandered his money； pestered
the police； and exposed himself to the ridicule of the men and
the indignation of the women for the last three months in trying
to achieve his insane purpose； and is now as far from it as ever。
He will not assign to anybody the smallest motive for his
conduct。 You can't laugh him out of it or reason him out of it。
When we met him just now； I happen to know that he was on his way
to the office of the police minister； to send out fresh agents to
search and inquire through the Roman States for the place where
his uncle was shot。 And； mind； all this time he professes to be
passionately in love with Miss Elmslie； and to be miserable at
his separation from her。 Just think of that！ And then think of
his self…imposed absence from her here； to hunt after the remains
of a wretch who was a disgrace to the family； and whom he never
saw but once or twice in his life。 Of all the 'Mad Monktons；' as
they used to call them in England； Alfred is the maddest。 He is
actually our principal excitement in this dull opera season；
though； for my own part； when I think of the poor girl in
England； I am a great deal more ready to despise him than to
laugh at him。〃
〃You know the Elmslies then？〃
〃Intimately。 The other day my mother wrote to me from England；
after having seen Ada。 This escapade of Monkton's has outraged
all her friends。 They have been entreating her to break off the
match； which it seems she could do if she liked。 Even her mother；
sordid and selfish as she is； has been obliged at last； in common
decency； to side with the rest of the family； but the good；
faithful girl won't give Monkton up。 She humors his insanity；
declares he gave her a good reason in secret for going away； says
she could always make him happy when they were together in the
old Abbey； and can make him still happier when they are married；
in short； she loves him dearly； and will therefore believe in him
to the last。 Nothing shakes her。 She has made up her mind to
throw away her life on him； and she will do it。〃
〃I hope not。 Mad as his conduct looks to us； he may have some
sensible reason for it that we cannot imagine。 Does his mind seem
at all disordered when he talks on ordinary topics？〃
〃Not in the least。 When you can get him to s