he dear dear old river! It makes me feel young again to look at it."

"Cissy," said Atherley, his arms on the gate, his eyes staring straight
towards the opposite horizon, "tell us about the ghost; were you
frightened?"

There was a certain tension in the pause which followed. Would she tell
us or not? I almost felt Atherley's rebound of satisfaction as well as
my own at the sound of her voice. It was uncertain and faint at first,
but by degrees grew firm again, as timidity was lost in the interest of
what she told:

"Last night I sat up with Mrs. Molyneux, holding her hand till she fell
asleep, and that was very late, and then I went to the dressing-room,
where I was to sleep; and as I undressed, I thought over what Mr.
Lyndsay had told us about the ghost; and the more I thought, the more
sad and strange it seemed that not one of those who saw it, not even
Aunt Eleanour, who is so kind and thoughtful, had had one pitying
thought for it. And we who heard about it were just the same, for it
seemed to us quite natural and even right that everybody should shrink
away from it because it was so horrible; though that should only make
them the more kind; just as we feel we must be more tender and loving to
any one who is deformed, and the more shocking his deformity the more
tender and loving. And what, I thought, if this poor spirit had come by
any chance to ask for something; if it were in pain and longed for
relief, or sinful and longed for forgiveness? How dreadful then that
other beings should turn from it, instead of going to meet it and
comfort it--so dreadful that I almost wished that I might see it, and
have the strength to speak to it! And it came into my head that this
might happen, for often and often when I have been very anxious to serve
some one, the wish has been granted in a quite wonderful way. So when I
said my prayers, I asked especially that if it should appear to me, I
might have strength to forget all selfish fear and try only to know
what it wanted. And as I prayed the foolish shrinking dread we have of
such things seemed to fade away; just as when I have prayed for those
towards whom I felt cold or unforgiving, the hardness has all melted
away into love towards them. And after that came to me that lovely
feeling which we all have sometimes--in church, or when we are praying
alone, or more often in the open air, on beautiful summer days when it
is warm and still; as if one's heart were beating and ove