r the light of day; a few rusty pictures, some
ancient hats, and, notably, a bust of some deceased Montfort, which
stood on a shelf, covered with a white sheet, like a half-length ghost.
Margaret did not think this gloomy place at all a cheerful place for a
nervous woman in a thunder-storm; so, nodding to Gerald to follow, she
ran up-stairs. But before she reached the landing, terrific shrieks
began to issue from the upper floor; shrieks so agonising, so
ear-piercing, that they dominated even the clamour of the storm.
Margaret flew, and Gerald flew after. What new portent was here?
Breathless, Margaret reached the door of the long closet. It stood open.
On the floor inside crouched Miss Sophronia, uttering the frantic
screams which rang through the house. Apparently she had lost the use of
her limbs from terror, else she would not have remained motionless
before the figure which was advancing towards her from the gloom of the
long passage. First a dusky whiteness glimmered from the black of the
further end, where the half-ghost sat on its shelf; then gradually the
whiteness detached itself, took shape,--if it could be called
shape,--emerged into the dim half-light,--came on slowly, silently.
Shrouded, like the ghostly bust behind it, tall and slender, with dark
locks escaping beneath the hood or cowl that drooped low over its
face,--with one hand raised, and pointing stiffly at the unhappy
woman,--the figure came on--and on--till it saw Margaret. Then it
stopped. Next came in view the bright, eager face of Gerald
Merryweather, looking over Margaret's shoulder. And at that, the
spectre began, very slowly, and with ineffable dignity, to retreat.

"Exclusive party," whispered Gerald. "Objects to our society, Miss
Montfort. Shall I head him off, or let him go?"

Margaret made no reply; she was bending over the poor lady on the floor,
trying to make her hear, trying to check the screams which still rang
out with piercing force.

[Illustration: A LIVELY GHOST.]

"Cousin Sophronia! Cousin, do stop! Do listen to me! It is a trick, a
naughty, naughty trick; nothing else in the world. Do, please, stop
screaming, and listen to me. Oh, what shall I do with her?" This remark
was addressed to Gerald; but that young gentleman was no longer beside
her. He had been keeping his eye on the spectre, which slowly, softly
glided back and back, until it melted once more into the thick blackness
at the further end. Gerald dodged out into t