five years before he had composed with a chuckle that memory had
not recorded, tears of remorse came into his eyes as he remembered that
he had been mainly instrumental in compassing by a false accusation this
good man's death; for during some of the legal proceedings, Mr. Harper,
for a consideration (forgotten) had come forward and sworn that in the
little transaction with his bay mare the deceased had acted in strict
accordance with the Harperian wishes, confidentially communicated to the
deceased and by him faithfully concealed at the cost of his life. All
that Mr. Brentshaw had since done for the dead man's memory seemed
pitifully inadequate--most mean, paltry, and debased with selfishness!

As he sat there, torturing himself with futile regrets, a faint shadow
fell across his eyes. Looking toward the moon, hanging low in the west,
he saw what seemed a vague, watery cloud obscuring her; but as it moved
so that her beams lit up one side of it he perceived the clear, sharp
outline of a human figure. The apparition became momentarily more
distinct, and grew, visibly; it was drawing near. Dazed as were his
senses, half locked up with terror and confounded with dreadful
imaginings, Mr. Brentshaw yet could but perceive, or think he perceived,
in this unearthly shape a strange similitude to the mortal part of the
late Milton Gilson, as that person had looked when taken from The Tree
five years before. The likeness was indeed complete, even to the full,
stony eyes, and a certain shadowy circle about the neck. It was without
coat or hat, precisely as Gilson had been when laid in his poor, cheap
casket by the not ungentle hands of Carpenter Pete--for whom some one
had long since performed the same neighborly office. The spectre, if
such it was, seemed to bear something in its hands which Mr. Brentshaw
could not clearly make out. It drew nearer, and paused at last beside
the coffin containing the ashes of the late Mr. Gilson, the lid of which
was awry, half disclosing the uncertain interior. Bending over this, the
phantom seemed to shake into it from a basin some dark substance of
dubious consistency, then glided stealthily back to the lowest part of
the cemetery. Here the retiring flood had stranded a number of open
coffins, about and among which it gurgled with low sobbings and stilly
whispers. Stooping over one of these, the apparition carefully brushed
its contents into the basin, then returning to its own casket, emptied