lights in the library, and the rest. Marcella had
consistently laughed at her.

Yet all the same she had made in secret a very diligent pursuit of this
ghost, settling in the end to a certain pique with him that he would not
show himself to so ardent a daughter of the house. She had sat up
waiting for him; she had lingered in the corridor outside, and on the
stairs, expecting him. By the help of a favourite carpenter she had made
researches into roofs, water-pipes, panelling, and old cupboards, in the
hope of finding a practical clue to him. In vain.

Yet here were the steps--regular, soft, unmistakable. The colour rushed
back into her cheeks! Her eager healthy youth forgot its woes, flung off
its weariness, and panted for an adventure, a discovery. Springing up,
she threw her fur wrap round her again, and gently opened the door,
listening.

For a minute, nothing--then a few vague sounds as of something living
and moving down below--surely in the library? Then the steps again.
Impossible that it should be any one breaking in. No burglar would walk
so leisurely. She closed her door behind her, and, gathering her white
satin skirts about her, she descended the staircase.

The corridor below was in radiant moonlight, chequered by the few pieces
of old furniture it contained, and the black and white of the old
portrait prints hanging on the walls. At first her seeking, excited eyes
could make out nothing. Then in a flash they perceived the figure of
Wharton at the further end near the garden door, leaning against one of
the windows. He was apparently looking out at the moonlit house, and she
caught the faint odour of a cigarette.

Her first instinct was to turn and fly. But Wharton had seen her. As he
looked about him at the sound of her approach, the moon, which was just
rounding the corner of the house, struck on her full, amid the shadows
of the staircase, and she heard his exclamation.

Dignity--a natural pride--made her pause. She came forward slowly--he
eagerly.

"I heard footsteps," she said, with a coldness under which he plainly
saw her embarrassment. "I could not suppose that anybody was still up,
so I came down to see."

He was silent a moment, scanning her with laughing eyes. Then he shook
his head. "Confess you took me for the ghost?" he said.

She hesitated; then must laugh too. She herself had told him the
stories, so that his guess was natural.

"Perhaps I did," she said. "One more disappointmen