Germany, lately published, and bearing on | of any sort. He would expect more atthe subject of my studies, which I had tention than he gave, I fancy; and the been anxiously looking for. I must now bride once gained, there would be little of make myself master of some of its con- sentiment, or sympathy either, in my gentents before proceeding with my own writ- tleman, or I am no judge of character. ing, to see how far I have been anticipated. And the lady, would she be the sort of The book was ingenious and original, yet woman to take the cue from her husband, happily still leaving room for the state- and to shrink from uncovering the hard ment of my views on the case, and the side of her lover-content to make the afternoon passed quickly and pleasantly best of him; to humor him when angry, enough, as I lay on the grass, by the bank and to play on his weaknesses in his lightof the stream, with the book for a compan-er moods? Again, I am mistaken if that ion, till the time for Wyatt's return. He is not the face of a woman charged with must have missed his train, however, for pride to measure against his selfishness, up to six o'clock he had not come; and and vanity against his conceit, after waiting till all chance of his arriving to scorn and upbraid rather than yield by it had passed away, I determined to without a struggle. If they came here in stroll down to the station to meet him, their honeymoon days, the place had cermaking, however, a detour by the mill. tainly not been used since; it showed no There would be plenty of time for this, as signs of occupation, or even of having been the next train was not due till seven. Even lately visited; but in the centre of the then we should be able to get out on the open circle I noticed that the grass had river before supper. been removed, and the soil raised, as if a beginning had been made of a flower-bed; but no flowers would flourish in a place so gloomy, and the attempt might well be abandoned almost as soon as begun. The shortest way to the mill was by the path through the wood, parallel to the stream, and some fifty yards distant from it. So overgrown was it that the pathway was barely wide enough for one person to pass, and the shrubs, underwood, and briers gave no view of what lay beyond. It was a perfect jungle. When about halfway through, I noticed what appeared to be the trace of another path turning off to the left that is, away from the river. The shortest way to the mill was no doubt the one straight on, and this other showed even less sign of being used; but I was seized with a desire to get out of the wood, which this evening was oppressively close, so turned aside. The wood was certainly not so wide as long, and I should probably be able to get out of it the sooner by taking this line. After pushing my way along for thirty or forty yards, the path opened into a small circular space, explained perhaps by the large oak tree which checked the under growth. Against this were the remains of a rustic seat, consisting of a few planks nailed against the trunk, once painted green, but now fast rotting away. A quiet retreat certainly, and pleasant enough no doubt when this shrubbery was a little better kept; and I wondered whether the young couple whose pictures hung in the drawing-room had ever sat on this bench in their honeymoon days, if they had passed them at the cottage, as seemed probable. But no; I can hardly fancy that gentleman with his hard face, and his curly black whiskers under his square chin, playing the lover, or indulging in much sentiment - a woman Retracing my steps to what in comparison might be called the main path, I went on to the mill, to find the miller standing as before on the bridge over the milldam, smoking his evening pipe. After salutations the miller observed that I need not have come through the wood unless I liked; there was a path round by the orchard and the nine-acre a daylight route, as one might say; and then proceeded to ask if I found myself comfortable at the cottage. He put the question in an indifferent tone, but yet I fancied I could detect an expression of curiosity in his face, as if he half expected to hear that I had something to tell. In company with the miller, and standing there in broad daylight, the alarm of the night had now succeeded to a feeling of indifference, or at most of contempt for myself at allowing my self-possession to be disturbed; but my curiosity was excited by the man's manner, and I asked him somewhat abruptly what he knew about the former occupants of the cottage. Marking the eagerness of my question, a flash of intelligence passed over the miller's face, but his manner became at once more reserved. They had gone away before he came to the mill, he said, as he had told me before: his brother was here then; he himself was up in Oxfordshire-waving his hand up-stream in the direction indicated-at that time, along with his father. How should he know anything | been down there that afternoon, to lock it about them? "Where was his brother now?" I asked; for his evident reserve made me curious. Well, his brother had emigrated, to be sure gone to America; and why shouldn't he? He thought he could better himself, and went off; and so he, the speaker, came and took the mill. Had the man spoken unconcernedly, I should probably have thought no more about it; but I could not help noticing that he seemed to feel I had a sort of power over him, and that although unwilling to give me information, he was also anxious to avoid the appearance of withholding anything. And this made me ask the further question, how long before he came did the lady and gentleman leave? "A few days before, he," answered rather sulkily, as I thought; he didn't rightly know how long exactly. "And they went away quite suddenly?" I continued; "and left everything behind them?" "Yes, they went away without giving notice," said the miller, almost repeating my words, and in a sort of defiant manner. "And left everything behind them?" And why shouldn't they? They might come back, perhaps any day, of course. They had the house on lease. But he must go in and have his supper, if I would excuse him. Would I step in and take a glass of anything? Well, then, perhaps I would allow him to take his supper; and so saying, the miller wished me good evening, and turned to go in-doors, while I stepped out towards the station, across the fields, unable to form any conclusion about what had passed, but looking forward with a sense of relief to Wyatt's arrival. As I passed along the path across the fields from the mill to the village, I met a young woman whom, although I am not quick at remembering faces, I concluded to be the miller's daughter. She gave me a look as of recognition, but passed on without speaking, and I turned round to look after her. Yes, it must have been her I saw; she is tail and slight, although there is certainly nothing graceful or gliding in her gait; she walks as awkwardly as most rustics; it must have been the dim light of evening that threw a glamour over her movements. And under a sudden impulse I called to her, and she stopped and came back a few steps to meet me. I asked her if it was she who had been down to the cottage on the evening of our first visit. Yes, she said; she and her sister had up. - "Your sister?" I asked, for I remembered that the miller had spoken of sending only one of his daughters. "Then you did not go alone? I thought your father had sent you by yourself? He said so." "So he did, sir, truly; but my sister was going to the village, so she went along with me. We didn't say nothing to father about it, because he would have said it was nonsense. But I beg your pardon, sir, I must be getting home," and she turned to go on. "Stay one moment," I said; and then, as she stopped and turned round again, I asked, "Where was your sister when you came out by yourself through the wood?" "Me come out by the wood!" cried the girl, her mouth opening wide, and her eyes and face alike expressing astonishment; why, I wouldn't go through the wood for worlds. I should expect to see "What would you expect to see?" I asked eagerly, interrupting her. "I beg your pardon, sir,” she answered, her manner changing abruptly to one of caution, "I didn't mean anything. I beg your pardon, sir, but father would be very angry if he knew I had been talking to you about such things. I wish you good evening, sir," and bobbing me a curtsy, she turned on her heel and pursued her way to the mill. Had this conversation passed near the cottage itself, or the grove, or while the events of the night had left their first impression, I believe I should have been startled by this corroboration of my own alarms; as it was, in the broad daylight of these pleasant meadows, with the village and railway station in full view, it was not difficult to succeed in putting aside all sensation of uneasiness; but I could not help looking forward with extreme satisfaction to the return of Wyatt, to whom I determined to communicate my experiences of the night, not without a strong suspicion that my story would be received with considerable ridicule. Although the sun had not yet set, it was now hidden behind a bank of clouds which had been gathering during the afternoon. The air was still and oppressive; and, never a good walker, I slackened my usual pace for the heat, and thus had the mortification to see the down-train arrive and pass on before I could reach the station. When I got there the passengers by it had already dispersed. As Wyatt did not expect me to meet him, of course he would not have waited for me, and I set off to overtake him along the other footpath, which led also across fields, direct to the cottage. But I could not make him out ahead of me, and on reaching the cottage I found that he had not arrived there. He must have got out at Maddeley, the next station before our own, and be coming up by the river, I made sure; and I wandered down along the bank, in hopes of meeting him, till warned to return by the rolling of distant thunder, and the large drops of rain now beginning to fall. As I approached the house it was almost dark; the wood beyond it looked more dreary than ever. I almost wondered, looking at it now, that I should have ever ventured to enter it; and I looked uneasily towards it, half expecting to see some mysterious form issuing from its gloomy recesses. But nothing appeared this time, and I hurried indoors, to find a telegram on the table which had been brought from the village in my absence. It was from Wyatt. The governor had sent him into Essex on some business, and he should not be back in time to return that evening, but would come down by the early train in | the morning to breakfast, and take a whole holiday. after the fashion of servants, as loudly as if they had been calling to each other from different rooms, instead of being seated at the same table. At another time the noise would have been offensive; just now it was the reverse of disagreeable. About half past ten o'clock Mrs. Bond came in to remove the tea-things; and then, after fastening the drawing-room windows and locking the hall-door, she looked in again to know if I wanted anything more before she went to bed, and wishing me goodnight retired. The feeling of discomfiture produced at first by the news of this desertion, and that I was destined to spend the evening alone, was succeeded by a sense of the absurdity, to say the least, of allowing myself to feel nervous, as I heard the cheerful noise of Mrs. Bond and her niece engaged in preparing supper in the kitchen. The rattle of plates, and the clatter of their voices, were enough to exorcise any demon of timidity and low spirits; and I was able, after a brief toilet, to find complete distraction from such foolish thoughts in the newspapers of the day, which Hannah, the girl, had brought from the village this evening. It was too hot, and I was too tired after my unwonted exercise, to eat much dinner; but I enjoyed all the more the tea which shortly succeeded that meal, and of which, although warned by my doctor to abstain from that form of refreshment at night, I drank even more freely than usual. Some rain fell during dinner, but only the edge of the storm came our way; the rumbling of the thunder could still be heard. The night was still and oppressive; and the windows, although wide open, seemed to let in no air. Awhiles I read, putting off the task of the night from one half-hour to another, hardly disturbed by the inmates of the kitchen taking their supper after mine, and talking, I was on the point of calling her back, to tell her to open the door of communication at the top of the stairs, but for very shame did not do so; I could not think of any excuse; to say anything about precautions against fire would have sounded ridiculous. I heard her make fast the door leading from the hall into the offices; then there was a certain amount of talking and shutting of doors and windows, followed by steps going up the back staircase, and then the little house became quite still. Not until then, and I felt absolutely alone, did the terror of I knew not what, against which I had been struggling all day with more or less success, return in full force. Above all, while trying to reassure myself by setting down what I thought I had seen to disordered nerves, there came on my mind, with renewed force, the recollection of the fact that it was not I alone who had to deal with the unaccountable. It could not be the state of my health which made me imagine only that Í had heard Wyatt speak of the figure passing into the house from the garden. I was sure he had told me of it. And although the thing had not surprised him, he did not know that the explanation of the appearance which he had suggested, failed altogether to explain it. No! During bright daylight the notion of the supernatural might be dismissed as foolishness; but in my present solitude the possibility seemed real enough. The very silence seemed horrible. I was ready to fancy sounds all round me. But nothing broke the silence. If only Wyatt had been here ! or even if the doors in the house had been left open, so that there might have been the sense of security from proximity of other living beings! If only Mrs. Bond's hearty snore could have reached my ears! Thus I remained for a while under the influence of the terror that possessed me, of I knew not what, yet withal thoroughly ashamed to confess my cowardice, even to myself, till at last, summoning up courage, lighted the chamber candlestick, and opening the door, placed it on a bracket in the hall, and then quickly returning, but leaving the door ajar, addressed myself to my papers. I had forgotten, as I have mentioned, to bring down any lamps with me, and had commissioned Wyatt that morning to buy three or four cheap ones and bring them down. The darkness of the house during the event of the past night, when the single candle was hardly reflected by the dingy walls of the passage, had contributed not a little to the horror of the situation, and I had resolved to light up all the rooms and passages this evening with a brightness that would banish all chance of a recurrence of such a thing. The non-arrival of these lamps had been almost as keen a disappointment as the absence of Wyatt himself; but even a single candle burning in the hall would be something. At first the very click of the pen heightened my sense of insecurity, it seemed to challenge a response with the unseen world; but at last the sound became familiar and even soothing. The chime of the village clock at midnight came to remind me that human beings were not so far off; the rattle of a train in the distance passing down the line was even more grateful; I became impressed with a sense of the incompatibility of such matter-of-fact things as railway trains with supernatural apparitions; and for the first time that evening I had succeeded in composing my mind, and concentrating my attention on the work before me. My brain assumed something of its normal activity, and I was getting interested in my work, instead of feeling it to be the distasteful labor which of late had oppressed me. I felt as if I could go on with it all the night through. Say what the doctors might about the importance for health of working only by day, there was nothing like night-work for cultivating the play of fancy and imagination. Thus I felt for the moment, rather than distinctly thought out the idea, while the busy pen plied its task. But what is that which suddenly makes the hand fall nerveless on the paper, and leaves me bereft of motion save for the quick beating of my heart? Some one is moving in the drawing-room opposite. Instinctively I felt that, be it what it may, it is the presence of the night before. Now I hear the drawing-room door open; the rustling of a dress in the passage. I started to my feet. At first it seemed as if my limbs would refuse to perform their office; but seizing a candle, I staggered to the door, and opening it wide looked out. Besides the candle I held in my hand, the light which I had placed in the passage was still burning, so that, dark and dingy as the passage was, it was yet lighted up; and at the other end, in the act of turning to mount the stairs, is the same apparition as had appeared the previous night; the same female figure that had entered the house from the wood. Tall, slight, and erect, robed in dark clothing, the face averted, and the head partly covered by a mantle, the figure was as clearly seen as if it had been daylight. Seen only for a moment, as, passing up the staircase, it disappears from my view. Surely it must be a real human being, for I can hear the old staircase creak as it makes its way up. Had I stopped to think, I could not have gone on; but under a sudden impulse I too hurried up the staircase after the apparition. Again there is no sign of any moving thing. The landing-place and passage are void of occupant; the passage-door is locked. I peep into the box-room, and again find it empty. There remain only the rooms of Wyatt and myself; and I enter each of these in turn, almost expecting as I do so to find myself face to face with the thing. Seeing nothing in each case, I venture to examine them carefully; but there are no hiding-places; the search is soon ended. My first impulse after this is to knock loudly at the passage-door and awake the two women; even the sound of my own voice would be a distraction in the horrid silence. But even in my terror I was restrained by shame. Even if they thought me serious, they would put down my impression to mere nervous imagination. Mrs. Bond would think she had more right than ever to tax me with keeping late hours and living on unwholesome diet. It is an effort to go out again into the passage, still more to go down-stairs; but I manage to do so, and also to look into the drawing-room, the door of which is open, while it was certainly shut before. The room itself shows no signs of having been visited. There is no key to the door; but shutting it I return to the dining-room, the lighted candle in which invites me to enter, and sitting down again I try to compose myself. Surely it must be my disordered health that has conjured up this vision. I was not always such a coward. It must have been mere illusion that I saw something. But no! I was never more convinced of the reality of anything than of the reality of this object. And yet if it be a visitant from the other world, why should I be thus fearful about it? Why should I not boldly face it? I will do so if it comes again; if I hear this sound again on the other side of the door, I will rush out and confront the figure, and intercept it: if incorporeal it will vanish perhaps; if it be real I need not fear to grasp it. What a change has come over you, Philip Merton, that you should be arguing in this way about it, and trying to screw your courage up to the sticking-point! Be yourself, be a man, and do not be afraid of a spirit, if spirit it be. Why should it harm you? By some such way of reasoning I did succeed in composing myself sufficiently to take up my pen again, and make an effort to continue my writing; not very successfully indeed, for while the hand was busy the ear was on the strain to catch the sound if it should recur. And while in this state, the hand falls helpless, the cold sweat bursts out, the very blood seems to curdle within me, as I am again startled by the sound of something moving, this time close to me, outside the open window, just on the other side of the table. Good God! why am I to be tormented with these horrid visions? This time it is the figure of a man. The light of a candle comes between us, so that the figure is only obscurely made out in the darkness -the figure of a tall, dark man. I can just distinguish a sort of cloak covering the figure, and the glance of a searching eye under a slouched hat. I sank back speechless and powerless in my chair. I felt my heart stand still, then begin beating again as if it would burst. Suddenly a sound issued from the apparition. It spoke. "How long have you been here?" The voice, although low and cautious, sounded harsh and hollow, but it reassured me. This was no apparition. This at least was a human being. And sinister though the man looked, the presence of one was a sort of comfort. I made no answer, for my voice literally stuck in my throat; nor did I want to show the fear that possessed me. "I could not help myself," continued the voice; "I stayed away; I wandered here and there. I tried to get rid of it; but I had to come back after all. I saw that you were alone, and I thought I would come in. You have got no evidence against me," the man continued, moving back as I stood up, for at the continued sound of the human voice my prostration had ceased. "You have got no evidence against me. I don't want to hurt you," he added, as I started back on the threatening attitude he assumed. "I don't want to hurt any one. I have got enough of that on my mind to last me my life. Look here," he went on, in the same stealthy voice; "I have been tramping all the day, and I'm damnably wet and thirsty. Haven't you got a drop of spirits in the place?' It seemed to me from the man's manner that he had been drinking already; but to be engaged in the homely office of supplying liquor was an agreeable diversion from the occupation of the night. Wyatt's brandy-bottle was on the sideboard. I took it up, and was about to mix some for him with water, but he whispered to me impatiently from the window to hand him the bottle and glass. He poured out nearly half a tumbler and drank it off. 66 "How long have you been here?" he repeated, as he set down the glass on the window-sill. "Only two days!" he said, as if to himself, after I had answered him. "So if I had come sooner I should have found the place shut up! Only two days! Only two years since we two were living here, she and I; and the place doesn't seem much changed. Only two years!" he continued turning round, and again speaking as if to himself. Only two years since she and I were here together! it seems like two hundred. Look here," he continued, turning round again, and stepping over the window-sill into the room; "I want just to see the other room. I have come several thousand miles to see it, I tell you. Yes, I know the way well enough;" and taking up one of the candles, he led the way into the drawing-room. I followed him. He looked round the little room, casting a curious look on the floor by the hearth, as if he expected to see something on the faded carpet, and then, advancing towards the fireplace, held the candle up to the picture of the woman above it, before which he stood gazing, the expression on his face a strange mixture of terror and ferocity. As he did so, the light fell also on the portrait of the man. I saw then who my visitor was. Altered though the features were brute though he looked now, unkempt and sodden, and disfigured by drink it was still the same face; and he had been a fine-looking man once. A few moments he stood thus, his hand |