"The physicians felt their failure to find a natural and scientific
cause for her death. Indeed, Dr. Mordred, from Plymouth, an eminent
pathologist, trembled not a little about it, as Mannering afterwards
told me. The finite mind of science hates, apparently, to be faced
with any mystery beyond its power to explain. It regards such an
incident as a challenge to human intellect, and does not remember
that we are encompassed with mystery as with a garment, and that
every day and every night are laden with phenomena for which man
cannot account, and never will.

"Nurse Forrester's relations--a sister and an old mother--came to
the funeral. Also her dearest woman friend, another professional
nurse, whose name I do not recollect. She was buried at Chadlands,
and her grave lies near our graves. Mary loves to tend it still,
though to her the dead woman is but a name. Yet to this day she
declares that she can remember Nurse Forrester's voice through her
fever--gentle, yet musical and cheerful. As for me, I never
mourned so brief an acquaintance so heartily. To part with the
bright creature, so full of life and kindliness, and to stand beside
her corpse but eight or nine hours afterwards, was a chastening and
sad experience."

Sir Walter became pensive, and did not proceed for the space of a
minute. None, however, spoke until he had again done so:

"That is the story of what is called our haunted room, so far as
this generation is concerned. What grounds for its sinister
reputation existed in the far past I know not--only a vague, oral
tradition came to my father from his, and it is certain that neither
of them attached any personal importance to it. But after such a