presence of such a thing, but one who has had the terrific experience.
Dick, Dick, a shadow has passed over me--a chill has crossed my blood
and marrow, and I will never be the same again--never, Dick--never!"

Our handmaid, a mature girl of two-and-fifty, as I have said, stayed her
hand, as Tom's story proceeded, and by little and little drew near to
us, with open mouth, and her brows contracted over her little, beady
black eyes, till stealing a glance over her shoulder now and then, she
established herself close behind us. During the relation, she had made
various earnest comments, in an undertone; but these and her
ejaculations, for the sake of brevity and simplicity, I have omitted in
my narration.

"It's often I heard tell of it," she now said, "but I never believed it
rightly till now--though, indeed, why should not I? Does not my mother,
down there in the lane, know quare stories, God bless us, beyant telling
about it? But you ought not to have slept in the back bedroom. She was
loath to let me be going in and out of that room even in the day time,
let alone for any Christian to spend the night in it; for sure she says
it was his own bedroom."

"_Whose_ own bedroom?" we asked, in a breath.

"Why, _his_--the ould Judge's--Judge Horrock's, to be sure, God rest his
sowl"; and she looked fearfully round.

"Amen!" I muttered. "But did he die there?"

"Die there! No, not quite _there_," she said. "Shure, was not it over
the banisters he hung himself, the ould sinner, God be merciful to us