m these questions."

"I will merely ask one more, Mr. Dempster, and then I shall be quite
satisfied. Well," she continued, turning to the boy, "and whose ghost
was it?"

"T' ghaist of Mistress Fairlie," answered Jacob in a whisper.

The effect which this extraordinary reply produced on Miss Halcombe
fully justified the anxiety which the schoolmaster had shown to prevent
her from hearing it. Her face crimsoned with indignation--she turned
upon little Jacob with an angry suddenness which terrified him into a
fresh burst of tears--opened her lips to speak to him--then controlled
herself, and addressed the master instead of the boy.

"It is useless," she said, "to hold such a child as that responsible
for what he says. I have little doubt that the idea has been put into
his head by others. If there are people in this village, Mr. Dempster,
who have forgotten the respect and gratitude due from every soul in it
to my mother's memory, I will find them out, and if I have any
influence with Mr. Fairlie, they shall suffer for it."

"I hope--indeed, I am sure, Miss Halcombe--that you are mistaken," said
the schoolmaster. "The matter begins and ends with the boy's own
perversity and folly. He saw, or thought he saw, a woman in white,
yesterday evening, as he was passing the churchyard; and the figure,
real or fancied, was standing by the marble cross, which he and every
one else in Limmeridge knows to be the monument over Mrs. Fairlie's
grave. These two circumstances are surely sufficient to have suggested
to the boy himself the answer which has so naturally shocked you?"

Although Miss Halcombe did not seem to be convinced, she evidently felt
that the schoolmaster's statement of the case was too sensible to be
openly combated. She merely replied by thanking him for his attention,
and by promising to see him again when her doubts were satisfied. This
said, she bowed, and led the way out of the schoolroom.

Throughout the whole of this strange scene I had stood apart, listening
attentively, and drawing my own conclusions. As soon as we were alone
again, Miss Halcombe asked me if I had formed any opinion on what I had
heard.

"A very strong opinion," I answered; "the boy's story, as I believe,
has a foundation in fact. I confess I am anxious to see the monument
over Mrs. Fairlie's grave, and to examine the ground about it."

"You shall see the grave."

She paused after making that reply, and reflected a little a