ve given me, through
your musical skill, the first cheerful moments I have spent here. How
can I thank you sufficiently for your kindness!" I kissed the hand she
offered to me, saying, that even on the very first day, or rather
during the very first night, I had experienced the ghostliness of the
place in all its horrors. The Baroness fixed her staring eyes upon my
face, as I went on to describe the ghostly character of the building,
discernible everywhere throughout the castle, particularly in the
decorations of the justice-hall, and to speak of the roaring of the
wind from the sea, &c. Possibly my voice and my expressions indicated
that I had something more in my mind than what I said; at any rate when
I concluded, the Baroness cried vehemently, "No, no; something dreadful
has happened to you in that hall, which I never enter without
shuddering. I beg you--pray, pray, tell me all."

Seraphina's face had grown deadly pale; and I saw plainly that it would
be more advisable to give her a faithful account of all that I had
experienced than to leave her excited imagination to conjure up some
apparition that might perhaps, in a way I could not foresee, be far
more horrible than what I had actually encountered. As she listened to
me her fear and strained anxiety increased from moment to moment; and
when I mentioned the scratching on the wall she screamed, "It's
horrible! Yes, yes, it's in that wall that the awful secret is
concealed!" But as I went on to describe with what spiritual power and
superiority of will my old uncle had banished the ghost, she sighed
deeply, as though she had shaken off a heavy burden that had weighed
oppressively upon her. She leaned back in the sofa and held her hands
before her face. Now I first noticed that Adelheid had left us. A
considerable pause ensued, and as Seraphina still continued silent, I
softly rose, and going to the pianoforte, endeavoured in swelling
chords to invoke the bright spirits of consolation to come and deliver
Seraphina from the dark influence to which my narration had subjected
her. Then I soon began to sing as softly as I was able one of the Abbe
Steffani's[6] canzonas. The melancholy strains of the _Ochi, perche
piangete_ (O eyes, why weep you?) roused Seraphina out of her reverie,
and she listened to me with a gentle smile upon her face, and bright
pearl-like tears in her eyes. How am I to account for it that I kneeled
down before her, that she bent over towards me, t