The Argosy — page 310: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Erna. 293 She told me her story that fair summer’s morning—told it half- Jaughingly, as was in her nature to do, and yet with something of earnestness breaking out more and more visibly, as the gloomy legend blackened to its close. Geoffrey Heathcott, one of the most faithful and foolish adherents toa bad King and worthless cause, left England in despair soon after the terrible 30th of January, 1649; but returned next year to follow the fortunes of Prince Charles from Stirling to the fatal field of Worcester. He escaped with his life, and after shifting for many months from one place of concealment to another, ventured back, sometime in 1653, to Devon and Heathcott Manor, and lived there, undisturbed by the Protector’s government, until, unhappily for himself, he became implicated in an abortive scheme for a rising in the West. He was seized, effected the same night a daring escape, and fled, with a party of Ironsides in fierce pursuit, to Heathcott House. ‘The search that the Parliamentarians conducted there was at first without result ; but General Harrison, their savage commander, was not a man to be easily baulked. He had the old steward of the family brought before him, and threatened him with instant death unless he would betray his master’s hiding-place. The old man, still protesting his ignorance, was dragged to the chamber that had ever since been known by his name, and there a party of musketeers were told off to fire on him. Harrison had, however, secretly given orders only to load with powder. ‘The volley killed Winstanley none the less: his frail hold of life was not to be thus rudely played with. When the soldiers lifted the old man from where he had fallen, they found him dead. ‘And his ghost, of course, has ever since haunted the scene of his murder,” I broke in, when Erna’s legend had reached this point: ‘according to the foolish custom prevalent among ghosts of haunting the neighbourhoods that must be most disagreeable to them. But I don’t see why this poor old spirit should be so very dreadful toa Heathcott.” ‘His master was never heard of afterwards,” said Erna, slowly and solemnly. » well?” “Don’t you see, Gerald, that the old man’s murderers were right, and that he was the only person whom Geoffrey Heathcott had trusted with the secret of his hiding-place? It is true the rumour at the time went that our ancestor had escaped to Spain, and died there; but I don’t believe it. I believe that what the legend says of him is true.” “And what does the legend say of this mysterious Geoffrey ? ” “It says that he had taken refuge in a hiding-place contrived in Elizabeth’s time by his Catholic grandfather—a small cell that, unhap- pily for him, by an oversight of the architect, could only be opened from without, and so made a prisoner of anyone who was hidden there.” CORNICE OOS (CO)