‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. ‘Not yet, madame. Jack's body was caught, and passed from hand to hand over a thousand heads, till it was far from the fatal tree. A shiver slid down inside her. In a fit of despondency, superinduced by drunkenness, he made away with himself; and when the body was discovered, after a lapse of some months, such was the impression produced by the spectacle —such the alarm occasioned by the crazy state of the building, and, above all, by the terror inspired by strange and unearthly noises heard during the night, which were, of course, attributed to the spirit of the suicide, that the place speedily enjoyed the reputation of being haunted, and was, consequently, entirely abandoned.
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