Edgar Jepson

“ A quarter of a mile along its edge we found Woodfell House, such a house as I had dreamed of dwelling in only in my most extravagant dreams, an old, roomy, red brick house in a walled garden.
An old woman, in her Sunday best, opened the door to us, and when she learned who Pamela was, welcomed her joyfully, and called George Hind her husband, an upright, square-shouldered soldierly man, from the kitchen. Pamela recognized him, and he her; he was the man who years ago had brought her from her home to No. 19. ”

“ I unlocked drawer after drawer, and in each I found what seemed to be rough drafts of the rites of the Abyss. There must have been some fifty of these drafts of the different rites, corrected and again corrected, the strange tongues translated into English, and the words of them written out in English letters, that the initiates, ignorant of the tongues themselves, might be able to learn them. Truly Woodfell had been a worker.
I locked up the drawers, and looked at Pamela.
"If ever the fancy takes us, we can form a circle and celebrate the rites of the Abyss ourselves," I said. ”

“ The next morning I went to my cousin and told him that I wished to have a week of my holiday at once since I proposed to get married on the Wednesday and to take my wife into the country.
"But this is very inconvenient," he said, his face clouding. "We are full up with important work. Who are you going to marry?"
"Miss Pamela Woodfell. She has fifteen thousand pounds and a charming house in Hertfordshire." ”