with the usual hospitality of Morvane, was at once
complied with. The stranger, who was a remarkably tall woman, was
dressed in widow's weeds, and of rather respectable appearance; her
deportment was grave, even stern, and altogether she seemed as if
suffering from some recent affliction.

During the whole of the early part of the evening she sat before the
fire, with her face buried between her hands, heedless of what was
passing around her, and was occasionally observed rocking to and fro,
with that kind of motion that bespeaks great internal anguish. It was
noticed, however, that she occasionally stole a look at those who were
in the apartment with her; and it was marked by all (but whether this
was merely the effect of imagination, for all _felt_ that there was
something singular and mysterious about the stranger, or was really the
case, we cannot decide) that, in these furtive glances, there was a
peculiarly wild and appalling expression. The stranger spoke none,
however, during the whole night; but continued, from time to time,
rocking to and fro in the manner already described. Neither could she be
prevailed upon to partake of any refreshment, although repeatedly
pressed to do so. All invitations of this kind she declined, with a wave
of the hand, or a melancholy, yet determined inclination of the head. In
words she made no reply.

The singular conduct of this woman threw a damp over all who were
present. They felt chilled, they knew not how; and were sensible of the
influence of an indefinable terror, for which they could not account.
For once, therefore, the feeling of comfort and security, of which all
were conscious who were seated around M'Pherson's cheerful and
hospitable hearth, was banished, and a scene of awe and dread supplied
its place.

No one could conjecture who this strange personage was, whence she had
come, nor whither she was going; nor were there any means of acquiring
this information, as it was a rule of the house--one of M'Pherson's
special points of etiquette--that no stranger should ever be questioned
on such subjects. All being allowed to depart as they came, without
question or inquiry, there was never anything more known at Morvane,
regarding any stranger who visited it, than what he himself chose to
communicate.

Under the painful feelings already described, the inmates of
M'Pherson's house found, with more than usual satisfaction, the hour for
retiring to rest arrive. The genera