nervous nor superstitious, I confess
that I would rather sleep in "our wing," as we called the part of the
house we inhabited, than in any of the old rooms.

When Catherine l'Estrange came to us, however, during our first
Christmas at Craymoor, I found that she was troubled with no such
fancies, but declared that she delighted in queer old rooms, with
raftered ceilings and deep window-seats, such as ours, and begged to be
allowed to occupy the spare chamber. This I readily acceded to, as we
had several visitors, and needed all the available rooms.

As my story has principally to do with Catherine l'Estrange, I suppose I
ought to speak more fully about her. She was an old school-friend of my
daughter Ella, and at the time of which I am speaking was just
one-and-twenty, and the merriest girl I ever knew. She had stayed with
us once or twice before we came to the Grange, but we then knew no other
particulars concerning her family, than that her father had been an
Indian officer, and that he and her mother had both died in India when
she was about six years old, leaving her to the care of an aunt living
in England.

I now, after a long, and I fear a tedious, preamble, come to my story.

On the eve of the new year of 1850, Catherine had a very bad sore
throat, and was obliged, though sorely against her inclination, to stay
in bed all day, and forego our small evening gayety.

At about 6 o'clock P.M., Ella took her some tea, and fearing she would
be dull, offered to stay with her during the evening. This, however,
Catherine would not hear of. "You go and entertain your company," said
she laughingly, "and leave me to my own devices; I feel very lazy, and I
dare say I shall go to sleep." As she had not slept much on the
preceding night, Ella thought it was the best thing she could do; so she
went out by the door leading on to the corridor, first placing the
night-lamp on a table behind the door opening on to the laundry, so that
it might not shine in her face.

She did not again visit Catherine's room until reminded to do so by my
son George, at about half-past ten. She then rapped at the door, and
receiving no answer, opened it softly, and approached the bed. Catherine
lay quite still, and Ella imagined her to be asleep. She therefore
returned to the drawing-room without disturbing her.

As it was New Year's eve, we stayed up "to see the old year out and the
new year in," and at a few minutes to twelve we all gathered