I am daily insulted with her presence in this house?'

"Dubarry went pale, as usual at the mention of the apparition; but he
faltered out with what composure he could command:

"'I--I told you who she is--Milly Jones.'

"'No; begging your pardon, she is _not_ Milly Jones. Milly Jones has
been ill with pleurisy, at home on the mountain, for the last two weeks;
and I have sent her a pension of two dollars a week. No; this is no
Milly Jones, and I insist on knowing who she is!'

"'Then, if she is not Milly Jones, she is a creature of your own
imagination, for no other living girl comes to the house,' answered
Dubarry doggedly.

"'You will not tell me who she is? Very well. When next I see her, _she_
shall tell me, silent as she is,' said the lady grimly setting her
teeth.

"Dubarry arose with a sigh, and went back to his ailing setter; but his
thoughts brooded over the subject of the apparition.

"The lady kept her word at a fearful cost. For the remainder of the day,
her conduct towards her husband was so cold and repelling as to wound
and offend him. So it happened that when the hour for retiring came that
night, she went up to her chamber alone. She had but time to reach the
room, when all the household was startled by a piercing shriek and a
heavy fall.

"Mr. Dubarry, soon followed by all the servants, rushed up stairs to
Mrs. Dubarry's bedroom. They found the lady extended on the floor, in a
deep swoon. She was raised and laid upon the bed, and proper means taken
to revive her. When at length she opened her eyes, and recognized her
husband, she signed for every one else to leave the room; and when they
had done so, she turned and took his hand and kissed it, and fixed her
wild and frightened eyes upon him and whispered in an awe-struck tone:

"'Phil, dear, I wronged you. I took that creature in the red cloak to be
a sweetheart of yours, Phil, but it was not; it was--_a spectre_!'

"There was silence between them for a minute, during which she never
took her scared eyes from his pale face. He was the first to speak.
Summoning up as much resolution as he could muster, he affected a light
laugh, and answered:

"'Spectre! My sweet wife, there is no such thing.'

"'Ah, but--but--if you could have seen what I saw, _felt what I felt_!'

"'Nonsense, dear one. You were the subject of an optical illusion.'

"'No, I was not. Hush! Let me tell you what happened. I came up into
this room. It was warm and ruddy with