"In the interval between the old count's death and the arrival of the young one, the servant entrusted with her care had robbed the house and taken flight. The poor woman, left shut up, was starved to death!"

66

Bravo, Miss Goodchild!" exclaimed Colonel Dunn, after a short pause following this recital-whilst he rubbed his old cropped head till it seemed likely that electric sparks would be seen issuing from the tips of each hair, so highly was he charged with impatient excitability—“well, you do tell a good ghastly one when you begin; I will say that!" Said Captain Luxton, who was a very quiet man, with a very quiet voice, but very twinkling eyes:

"It seems to me that Miss Goodchild's own story tells against her theory. The young man thought, like everybody else, he saw a ghost-and he was mistaken."

"Now, Harry, do hold your tongue," exclaimed his wife, whilst the fair preacher of ghostology looked rather disconcerted. "There are plenty of true stories, as all the world knows, of real ghosts. Why should people have ever believed in them, if there were none? Answer me that."

"Yes, yes; of course mine was not a regular ghost story; but there are plenty of true ones," said poor Una Goodchild, looking thankfully at her ally. "I have even thought of collecting all the authentic ones told me by friends, and publishing them like 'The Night Side of Nature."" (Publishing! such an idea-as if she could! was expressed by slight shrugs of the shoulders of the fair county clique.)

"Pray do; and call it the new 'Noctes Ambrosianæ,' suggested Gascoigne cheerfully.

The gentlemen would treat the subject with veiled derision, not at all shared by the weaker sex. But immediately afterwards, afraid he might have vexed her, Gascoigne added:

"I do believe, though, in the strong effects of imagination. For instance, a lady who was staying at my home last winter was fond of collecting curiosities; and someone gave her the hand of a mummy, which she showed me with the greatest delight as a new toy. Next morning she came downstairs looking very pale. She told me then she had dreamt that a beautiful, black-haired woman, wearing a long veil and dressed in white, came and stood by her side-and, in a low voice as if from far away, said: 'Give back my hand! Give me back my hand!' holding out a bleeding wrist. I told her it was her own imagination; advised

her not to give up possession. However, next time she dreamed the same thing. And the following morning, in desperation, she resolved not to face a third such night, and begged me to take a present of the hand-so I did."

"And what did you see next night?" asked everyone, on tiptoe of expectation as the speaker paused.

Said Gascoigne, modestly, though his nose raised itself with an air of enjoyment that was really irritating:

"I saw nothing."

"Nothing!-But did you keep it long? Did you give it a fair chance?" cried the disappointed ones.

"I kept it in my room for weeks, and have it still. What more could I do?" meekly asked the hardened heretic.

"Ah, well! your lady friend had the gift of second sight; but you must have too material an organisation," meditatively observed Miss Goodchild, settling the matter thus to her own entire satisfaction.

"Jack, do tell your one; you know-the horrible story," Daisy softly urged her brother. Jack gave an honest growl, intimating no stepping before the public for him—thank you! "What's that little Miss Dimity says?" cried Colonel Dunn, however; getting more excited and delighted as each fresh person was entrapped into story-telling, so long as he himself was spared. "Come on, man; come on!" as young Dimity still muttered sounds of evasion, which seemed to come from as far away as those of the Egyptian lady. "Let us hear your tale, too. Is your brother scolding you for betraying him, Miss Dimity, eh? . . . Tell him, 'Better speak bauldly out, than aye be grumplin'!'" And the Colonel rubbed his hands gleefully, as if they had no more feeling than dry sticks, and, like Captain Cook's savages, he was trying to bring fire out of them.

Thus adjured, Jack began in the deep bass voice that almost startled people-considering his rather inconsiderable size: "Well! I heard this when I was in a Militia regiment trying to pass for my commission for the army. Some of the fellows remembered the colonel and the other two men it happened to; but they were before my time. The story is, when the regiment was out training, the colonel, a captain, and one of the young officers were asked out to dine at a country house. During the dinner the colonel, who had taken in the lady of the house, remarked that his subaltern kept looking at their

hostess in a curious way, and very frequently. He kept on doing this more and more-till after dinner, when they were again in the drawing-room, it seemed as if he could not take his eyes off the lady, for wherever she moved he watched her, as if he were fascinated. The colonel frowned at him, tried to catch his eye, but all in vain. At last being thoroughly annoyed, and afraid the young fellow's excessive rudeness must be remarked, the colonel took his leave very earlyso, as the other two had come in his carriage, they were obliged to go with him. In the carriage he told his captain why he had left, saying to the youngster: How could you stare any lady so out of countenance? I never was more annoyed in my life.' 'Well, sir,' said the other, 'if you saw what I did, I only wonder you did not stare too. Did you not see something very shocking?' 'No,' said the colonel. 'What did you see?' 'I saw a devilish figure behind Mrs.

all the time, and it seemed trying to cut her throat!' Well! of course neither the colonel nor the other man could believe the young one was in his right senses at this; so they concluded he had taken too much champagne, when they heard the gallop of a horse behind them, and, looking out, recognised one of the servants from the house they had just left. They called out to ask what was the matter. 'I am going as fast as I can for the doctor,' said the man. 'My mistress has just cut her throat!'"

Jack's story created a slight sensation; the ladies felt a disagreeable thrill.

A change for the brighter was wanted, when old Miss Prudence Silverthorne, the eldest, began, in a high, chirping voice: "Now, do let me tell you a quite different ghost story, which happened to myself and my sister Patience. May I?"

Might she? There was a cheeriness about her tone that made the men believe she would be rational, while there was also an air of sincerity impressing true believers with faith in her earnestness of purpose. They hailed the offer; and the old lady, pluming herself something after the manner of a bird, thus began:

"In my young days, Patience and I were once invited up to stay in the south of Scotland, for a large ball and other festivities, to be given in honour of the heir of the house having come of age. Something, I forget now what, seemed likely to prevent us, so we wrote with regret and refused.

"It happened, however, in a day or two that the obstacle

was removed; and, since these people were great friends of ours, my sister and I thought we might venture still to use their invitation; so we wrote accordingly, and started on our journey before we could get any letter in return.

"There was no telegraph in those days, remember.

"Well, it seems some other friends had been asked to fill our places meanwhile; so there was a difficulty about finding us room, which we, being young and foolish, had never contemplated. The house was crammed to overflowing.

"They must have the small breakfast-room,' our kind hostess at last said. 'While there is such a large party we must breakfast, of course, in the dining-room.' So that was settled. But then arose a question—as we afterwards learnt— as to our bed; for not a spare one was to be had in the house, and, we being expected that evening, there was no time to hire one from the nearest town, which was at some distance. "At last the housekeeper remembered an ancient fourpost bed, which had been discarded to the lumber-room since ages. It was a handsome old bed, with carved posts, and a green velvet canopy overhead, covered with dust, and nodding plumes, that gave it a strange resemblance to a hearse. However, when they brought this with difficulty downstairs, it was found that it would hardly fit into the breakfast-room. For the latter was one of the oldest rooms in the house, dating from the days of the border fortresses, and had immensely thick walls, and a low, groined ceiling; so that the only spot in which our bed could be put upright was in the middle of the room-which gave it a singular appearance, even more solemn and bier-like than before.

"Nevertheless, when we arrived and found what pains they had all been at to make us comfortable, we naturally expressed the utmost satisfaction and delight with all the arrangements made for us. And though poor Patience whispered to me that the bed made her think someone might have been murdered in it, I praised its gloomy grandeur to the housekeeper.

"Anyhow, there was no time for qualms, since that night the great ball took place, at which we danced till we were tired out, and only went to bed not long before cockcrow.

"We had not long been in bed, and the house was very still, when, as I lay between sleeping and waking, I felt Patience touch me, and at the same time heard the handle of the door softly turned.

"Now as you all very well know-one's first impulse in such a case is either to call out in a hurry or else to hold one's breath and lie still very frightened. And this last is exactly what we did.

'Soft, small footsteps approached the bed. As well as one could judge in thick darkness, they seemed unlike the steps of man or woman, not heavy enough for the one, more pattering than those of the other, and therefore still more uncanny.

Next

"They paused beside us in silence. There was a cold gust of air; then something seemed to pass before our faces with a wave and fluttering as of wings, immediately after which all came over the bed a quick, soft pattering, as it were. the steps receded noiselessly, and we were left trembling. "Now I do not say that we were either courageous or cowardly; judge for yourselves.

"All I knew well was that we were so far from any other living inmates of that great old house no calls for help would have been heard by them; so, as screaming was useless, I refrained. Besides, I had once heard a woman screaming, and it seemed to me such an unseemly sound, that, if the thing had even attempted to strangle us, struggling in silence seemed preferable."

"Ah! but then you are so courageous, Prudence," broke in her sister. "She may say she is not; but she has the most marvellous endurance. I should have given a piercing scream, but that my throat seemed choked."

"Well, I may have endurance," went on old Miss Silverthorne, with a small serene smile, and a matter-of-fact quietness of narration, that made everyone draw nearer in confidence, “but nevertheless I had no power to move from the moment that thing entered the room, and afterwards I dared not go out of the room after it; hiding under the bedclothes seemed a protection.

"Indeed! what use was there in getting up? There was neither key nor bolt to the door.

"We had not long lain still, whispering and wondering in fright to each other, when for the second time the same soft-footed sounds entered, and seemed to pause beside our bed, as if doubtingly. We had both now hidden our heads under the bed-clothes, which we tightly held down. Again we felt the soft touches, not straying all over us as before, but this time like two quick pats, twice repeated on each of