desired to begin.

"We must have ghost stories, and in order to be properly thrilling and
effective, the lights must be put out," said Rose, who sat next him, and
spoke first, as usual.

This was soon done, and only a ruddy circle of firelight was left to
oppose the rapt gloom that filled the hall, where shadows now seemed to
lurk in every corner.

"Don't be very dreadful, or I shall faint away," pleaded Blanche,
drawing nearer to Annon, for she had taken her sister's advice, and laid
close siege to that gentleman's heart.

"I think your nerves will bear my little tale," replied Treherne.
"When I was in India, four years ago, I had a very dear friend in my
regiment--a Scotchman; I'm half Scotch myself, you know, and clannish,
of course. Gordon was sent up the country on a scouting expedition,
and never returned. His men reported that he left them one evening to
take a survey, and his horse came home bloody and riderless. We
searched, but could not find a trace of him, and I was desperate to
discover and avenge his murder. About a month after his disappearance,
as I sat in my tent one fearfully hot day, suddenly the canvas door
flap was raised and there stood Gordon. I saw him as plainly as I see
you, Jasper, and should have sprung to meet him, but something held me
back. He was deathly pale, dripping with water, and in his bonny blue
eyes was a wild, woeful look that made my blood run cold. I stared
dumbly, for it was awful to see my friend so changed and so unearthly.
Stretching his arm to me he took my hand, saying solemnly, 'Come!' The
touch was like ice; an ominous thrill ran through me; I started up to