Prest, Thomas Preskett / 2008-09-26 00:00:00

The sight of it is at once
sufficient to awaken all her former terrors in poor Flora's brain if she
should chance to awaken and cast her eyes suddenly upon it."
"And is it so like him who came here?" said the mother.
"It is the very man himself," said Mr. Marchdale. "I have not been in
this house long enough to ask any of you whose portrait that may be?"
"It is," said Henry, "the portrait of Sir Runnagate Bannerworth, an
ancestor of ours, who first, by his vices, gave the great blow to the
family prosperity."
"Indeed. How long ago?"
"About ninety years."
"Ninety years. 'Tis a long while--ninety years."
"You muse upon it."
"No, no. I do wish, and yet I dread--"
"What?"
"To say something to you all. But not here--not here. We will hold a
consultation on this matter to-morrow. Not now--not now."
"The daylight is coming quickly on," said Henry; "I shall keep my sacred
promise of not moving from this room until Flora awakens; but there can
be no occasion for the detention of any of you. One is sufficient here.
Go all of you, and endeavour to procure what rest you can."
"I will fetch you my powder-flask and bullets," said Mr.
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