anybody of which or of whom I have
no personal knowledge; at the same time, I was anxious to help my kindly
acquaintance in her philanthropy, and as I had arranged to spend some
weeks in London that autumn--to be near an invalid brother--it struck me
that I might stay at the house so strongly recommended, instead of
taking private rooms as usual.

So I journeyed to Sussex Gardens, found a charming house, newly
furnished and decorated, and as clean as the proverbial "new pin," and,
moreover, a very good-looking mistress of the house, still a youngish
woman of five or six and thirty.

She spoke most warmly of the kindness she had received from the lady who
had given me her address, showed me some pleasant rooms, and the
arrangement was quickly completed.

I chose a small sitting-room in addition to my bedroom, although, as a
matter of fact, this was scarcely necessary, as I was the first guest
received. Only one deaf old lady appeared upon the scene during the six
weeks I spent there.

I had not been forty-eight hours in the house before I discovered that
my hostess was a convinced and very remarkable psychic. Naturally she
was delighted to find someone to whom she could speak of her various
experiences without being laughed at or put down as a lunatic. At the
same time I am bound to confess that Mrs Peters, although extremely
interesting, was also rather agitating, and certainly much too erratic
to make an entirely satisfactory _Chatelaine_. She was given to reading
"Aurora Leigh," instead of ordering dinner, and had to be sent for
occasionally to sit at the head of the table, with a volume of
_Browning_ or _Tennyson_ firmly clutched in her reluctant hand. Even
when duly "found and delivered," curious things happened during the
meals--especially at dinner in the evening, when she often put down
knife and fork and directed my attention to the far end of the handsome
dining-room, where she was wont to see the ghost of her late husband.

"Look, dear Miss Bates! Surely you _must_ see him--dear Henry, I mean.
There he stands, beard and all, just between the sofa and the wall. I
can see him as clearly as I see you!"

I am bound to say I never _did_ see "dear Henry"; but the fine tabby cat
certainly saw something in that corner, for it would rush most
frantically to the sofa, jump on to one end, and sit staring at Henry
(presumably), with its tail stuck out and its fur rising up, glaring
into the corner with a look of co