Hester had not forgotten, but in spite of her courage and good sense she
shrank a little from looking at the spot where she had last seen her
master's dead face. She believed the light and sound to be phantoms of
my lady's distempered fancy, and searched merely to satisfy her. The
mystery of Sir Richard's death still haunted the minds of all who
remembered it, and even Hester felt a superstitious dread of that room.
With a nervous laugh she looked under the bed and, drawing back the
heavy curtains, said soothingly, "You see, my lady, there's nothing
there."

But the words died on her lips, for, as the pale glimmer of the candle
pierced the gloom of that funeral couch, both saw a face upon the
pillow: a pale face framed in dark hair and beard, with closed eyes and
the stony look the dead wear. A loud, long shriek that roused the house
broke from Lady Trevlyn as she fell senseless at the bedside, and
dropping both curtain and candle Hester caught up her mistress and fled
from the haunted room, locking the door behind her.

In a moment a dozen servants were about them, and into their astonished
ears Hester poured her story while vainly trying to restore her lady.
Great was the dismay and intense the unwillingness of anyone to obey
when Hester ordered the men to search the room again, for she was the
first to regain her self-possession.

"Where's Paul? He's the heart of a man, boy though he is," she said
angrily as the men hung back.

"He's not here. Lord! Maybe it was him a-playing tricks, though it ain't
like him," cried Bessy, Lillian's little maid.