Sich a quare murther, too, with the finger rings all left on, and the
money purse in the pocket. Ah, Miss Jessie, a murtherin' ghost won't
niver be laid."

"You silly Kate!" said Jessie merrily. "Don't be afraid, I'll take care
of the ghosts. We are all right."

After a cup of tea and a bit of toast, Jessie repaired to her chamber
on the second floor and picked up some trifle she was embroidering, to
beguile the time of waiting. Mabel and George would get in about nine,
when they were to relate the day's doings around a good warm supper.

Katie was to follow and sit with her mistress, after she had done some
righting up down stairs. Mike was bent upon routing an army of rats in
the barn. Mrs. Lawrence had retired to her room with a nervous headache.

The high winds from the sea had lulled, and for once the house was
utterly quiet--so quiet that the stillness became oppressive. Meanwhile
the young girl sat in her bower of luxury, softly humming a favorite
air, and very happy in thoughts of her approaching marriage. While deep
in her smiling reverie, a stealthy footstep distinctly sounded outside
her door.

Raising her head, she had not time to feel a sensation of real fear,
when cautiously her doorknob was turned and a head intruded itself which
struck her as dumb as though Medusa had appeared, and drove the
life-blood in a frozen current to her head.

The face was ghastly, the hair black and curling upon high, narrow
shoulders, the figure slight and spare, and a pair of restless black