cy that it was not
read by any one but the dear grandmother till after poor Cuthbert
Melcombe's sad death, and then I think the family lawyer found it among
her papers when she had to inherit the estate. He may have wanted
evidence, perhaps, that Augustus Melcombe was dead."

"Perhaps so," said Valentine. "It is just of the usual sort, I see, this
story; a blue light hovering about the head. The ghost walked in his
shroud, and she saw the seams in it."

"Yes, and then it passed through the door without opening it," added
Laura, who was present. "How dear grandmother disliked the woman! She
showed a sort of fear, too, of that door, which made us sure she
believed the story."

"Very natural," said Mrs. Melcombe. sighing, "that she could not bear to
have her misfortunes made a subject for idle talk and curiosity. I am
sure I should feel keenly hurt if it was ever said that my poor innocent
darling haunted the place."

"Had anything been said against him in his lifetime?" Valentine next
ventured to ask. "Had he done anything which was likely to put it into
people's heads to say he might be uneasy in his grave?"

"Oh no, nothing of the sort," said Laura. "And then old Becky is thought
to have added circumstances to the story, so that it came from that
cause to be discredited of late. It is almost forgotten now, and we
never believed it at all; but it certainly is an odd coincidence that
she should have told it of a man who never came back to contradict her,
and who really did die, it appears, about that time."

Valentine accordingly went in the course of a few days to find old Becky
Maddison. The cottage was not far from the village. Only the daughter
was below, and when Valentine had told his name and errand, she went
up-stairs, perhaps to prepare her mother, to whom she presently
conducted him.

Valentine found her a poor bedridden creature, weak, frail, and
querulous. She was in a clean and moderately comfortable bed, and when
she saw him her puckered face and faded eyes began to look more
intelligent and attentive, and she presently remarked on his likeness to
his father.

A chair was set for him, and sitting down, he showed a sovereign in his
palm, and said, "I want to hear the ghost story; tell it me as it really
was, and you shall have this."

A shabby book was lying on the bed.

"Her can tell it no better'n it's told here," said the daughter.

Valentine took up the book. It was the same that he knew; th