been otherwise than dissatisfied with the new position of affairs, and
betook himself to Mrs. Bowyer for sympathy and information. "Did you ever
see a girl so fallen off?" he said. "Fallen off, doctor! I think she is
prettier and prettier every day." "Oh," the poor man cried, with a
strong breathing of impatience, "You ladies think of nothing, but
prettiness!--was I talking of prettiness? She must have lost a stone
since she went back there. It is all very well to laugh," the doctor
added, growing red with suppressed anger, "but I can tell you that is the
true test. That little Connie Turner is as well as possible; she has
handed over her nerves to Mary Vivian. I wonder now if she ever talks to
you on that subject."

"Who? little Connie?"

"Of course I mean Miss Vivian, Mrs. Bowyer. Don't you know the village is
all in a tremble about the ghost at the Great House?"

"Oh yes, I know, and it is very strange. I can't help thinking,
doctor,--"

"We had better not discuss that subject. Of course I don't put a moment's
faith in any such nonsense. But girls are full of fancies. I want you to
find out for me whether she has begun to think she sees anything. She
looks like it; and if something isn't done she will soon do so, if not
now."

"Then you do think there is something to see," said Mrs. Bowyer, clasping
her hands; "that has always been my opinion: what so natural--?"

"As that Lady Mary, the greatest old aristocrat in the world, should come