"Not all," said Redlaw, hoarsely.

"No, not all," returned the Phantom. "I had a sister."

The haunted man, with his head resting on his hands, replied "I
had!" The Phantom, with an evil smile, drew closer to the chair,
and resting its chin upon its folded hands, its folded hands upon
the back, and looking down into his face with searching eyes, that
seemed instinct with fire, went on:

"Such glimpses of the light of home as I had ever known, had
streamed from her. How young she was, how fair, how loving! I
took her to the first poor roof that I was master of, and made it
rich. She came into the darkness of my life, and made it bright.--
She is before me!"

"I saw her, in the fire, but now. I hear her in music, in the
wind, in the dead stillness of the night," returned the haunted
man.

"DID he love her?" said the Phantom, echoing his contemplative
tone. "I think he did, once. I am sure he did. Better had she
loved him less--less secretly, less dearly, from the shallower
depths of a more divided heart!"

"Let me forget it!" said the Chemist, with an angry motion of his
hand. "Let me blot it from my memory!"

The Spectre, without stirring, and with its unwinking, cruel eyes
still fixed upon his face, went on: