arty, the ladies expect that for a long while, if not all evening, they
will be left alone in it. For a time they scarce know how to employ
themselves. With Helen, amusement is out of the question. She has
flung herself into a _fauteuil_, and sits in pensive attitude; of late,
alas! become habitual to her.

Jessie, taking up her guitar, commences a song, the first that occurs to
her, which chances to be "Lucy Neal," a negro melody, at the time much
in vogue on the plantations of the South. She has chosen the pathetic
strain without thought of the effect it may produce upon her sister.
Observing it to be painful she abruptly breaks off, and with a sweep of
her fingers across the guitar strings, changes to the merrier refrain of
"Old Dan Tucker." Helen, touched by the delicate consideration, rewards
it with a faint smile. Then, Jessie rattles on through a _melange_ of
negro ministrelsy, all of the light comical kind, her only thought being
to chase away her sister's despondency.

Still is she unsuccessful. Her merry voice, her laughter, and the
cheerful tinkle of the guitar strings, are all exerted in vain. The
sounds so little in consonance with Helen's thoughts seem sorely out of
place in that gloomy apartment; whose walls, though they once echoed the
laughter of roystering friars, have, no doubt, also heard the sighs of
many a poor _peon_ suffering chastisement for disobedience, or apostacy.

At length perceiving how idle are her efforts, the younger sister lays
aside her guitar, at the same time starting to her feet, and
saying:--"Come, Helen! suppose we go outside for a stroll? That will be
more agreeable than moping in this gloomsome cavern. There's a
beautiful moonlight, and we ought to enjoy it."

"If you wish, I have no objections. Where do you intend strolling to?"

"Say the garden. We can take a turn along its walks, though they are a
little weedy. A queer weird place it is--looks as if it might be
haunted. I shouldn't wonder if we met a ghost in it--some of the old
monks; or it might be one of their victims. 'Tis said they were very
cruel, and killed people--ay, tortured them. Only think of the savage
monsters! True, the ones that were here, as I've heard, got killed
themselves in the end--that's some satisfaction. But it's all the more
reason for their ghosts being about. If we should meet one, what would
you do?"

"That would depend on how he behaved himself."

"You're not afraid of