o reasons. In the first place, my host had
never before come into my room; and, in the second place, he had gone
from home that morning, and had not expected to return for several days.
It was for this reason that I had been able that evening to sit much
later than usual with Madeline on the moonlit porch. The figure was
certainly that of John Hinckman in his ordinary dress, but there was a
vagueness and indistinctness about it which presently assured me that it
was a ghost. Had the good old man been murdered? and had his spirit come
to tell me of the deed, and to confide to me the protection of his
dear--? My heart fluttered at what I was about to think, but at this
instant the figure spoke.

"Do you know," he said, with a countenance that indicated anxiety, "if
Mr. Hinckman will return to-night?"

I thought it well to maintain a calm exterior, and I answered:

"We do not expect him."

"I am glad of that," said he, sinking into the chair by which he stood.
"During the two years and a half that I have inhabited this house, that
man has never before been away for a single night. You can't imagine the
relief it gives me."

And as he spoke he stretched out his legs, and leaned back in the chair.
His form became less vague, and the colors of his garments more distinct
and evident, while an expression of gratified relief succeeded to the
anxiety of his countenance.

"Two years and a half!" I exclaimed. "I don't understand you."

"It is fully that length of time," said the ghost, "since I first came
here. Mine is not an ordinary case. But before I say anything more about
it, let me ask you again if you are sure Mr. Hinckman will not return
to-night."

"I am as sure of it as I can be of anything," I answered. "He left
to-day for Bristol, two hundred miles away."

"Then I will go on," said the ghost, "for I am glad to have the
opportunity of talking to someone who will listen to me; but if John
Hinckman should come in and catch me here, I should be frightened out of
my wits."

"This is all very strange," I said, greatly puzzled by what I had heard.
"Are you the ghost of Mr. Hinckman?"

This was a bold question, but my mind was so full of other emotions that
there seemed to be no room for that of fear.

"Yes, I am his ghost," my companion replied, "and yet I have no right to
be. And this is what makes me so uneasy, and so much afraid of him. It
is a strange story, and, I truly believe, without precedent. Two years