s looked to me like wicked little faces. It was a mocking, silly
creature that I saw at the side of every prim bouquet, and I looked at
the faded little imps, until they seemed as much alive as Lady Ferry
herself.

Her head nodded continually, as if it were keeping time to an
inaudible tune, as she sat there stiffly erect. Her skin was pale and
withered; and her cheeks were wrinkled in fine lines, like the
crossings of a cobweb. Her eyes might once have been blue; but they
had become nearly colorless, and, looking at her, one might easily
imagine that she was blind. She had a singularly sweet smile, and a
musical voice, which, though sad, had no trace of whining. If it had
not been for her smile and her voice, I think madam would have been a
terror to me. I noticed to-day, for the first time, a curious
fragrance, which seemed to come from her old brocades and silks. It
was very sweet, but unlike any thing I had ever known before; and it
was by reason of this that afterward I often knew, with a little
flutter at my heart, she had been in some other rooms of the great
house beside her own. This perfume seemed to linger for a little while
wherever she had been, and yet it was so faint! I used to go into the
darkened chambers often, or even stay for a while by myself in the
unoccupied lower rooms, and I would find this fragrance, and wonder if
she were one of the oldtime fairies, who could vanish at their own
will and pleasure, and wonder, too, why she had come to the room. But
I never met her at all.

That first visit to her and the strange fancy she had about the
funeral I have always remembered distinctly.

"I am glad you came," Madam repeated: "I was finding the day long. I
am all ready, you see. I shall place a little chair which is in the
next room, beside your cousin's seat for you. Mrs. Agnes is ill, I
hear; but I think she will come to-morrow. Have you heard any one say
if many guests are expected?"--"No, Madam," I answered, "no one has
told me;" and just then the thought flitted through my head that she
had said the evening before that all her friends were gone. Perhaps
she expected their ghosts: that would not be stranger than all the
rest.

The open space where Lady Ferry had left room for her coffin began to
be a horror to me, and I wished Deborah would come back, or that my
hostess would open the shutters; and it was a great relief when she
rose and went into the adjoining room, bidding me follow her, an