] Nigel had soon enough of the doleful tales which
the book contains, and attempted one or two other modes of killing the
evening. He looked out at window, but the night was rainy, with gusts
of wind; he tried to coax the fire, but the fagots were green, and
smoked without burning; and as he was naturally temperate, he felt his
blood somewhat heated by the canary sack which he had already drank,
and had no farther inclination to that pastime. He next attempted to
compose a memorial addressed to the king, in which he set forth his
case and his grievances; but, speedily stung with the idea that his
supplication would be treated with scorn, he flung the scroll into the
fire, and, in a sort of desperation, resumed the book which he had
laid aside.
Nigel became more interested in the volume at the second than at the
first attempt which he made to peruse it. The narratives, strange and
shocking as they were to human feeling, possessed yet the interest of
sorcery or of fascination, which rivets the attention by its awakening
horrors. Much was told of the strange and horrible acts of blood by
which men, setting nature and humanity alike at defiance, had, for the
thirst of revenge, the lust of gold, or the cravings of irregular
ambition, broken into the tabernacle of life. Yet more surprising and
mysterious tales were recounted of the mode in which such deeds of
blood had come to be discovered and revenged.
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