The following evening a large party were assembled in the ball-room, for the young people had declared that they should be far too tired to do anything but dance, and musicians were, therefore, retained, and all the people in the immediate neighbourhood invited to come back. Lord Harston was glad of it, because he had made up his mind to propose to Miss Ilderton, and, as other young men have done, fancied that a ballroom was a very good place for the purpose. Captain Fotheringsail might possibly have had some similar ideas on the same subject with regard to Jane Otterburn. Charley and his brother-midshipman declared that they were ready for a dance every night of their lives. Jane had gone to her room after dinner, which was in a wing of the house away from the ball-room, and at this time as silent as at midnight; the evening guests had not yet arrived. A cheerful fire was burning, the flames from which sent at times a flickering and uncertain light through the room, but were generally bright enough to enable her to dispense with the light of her candles, as she sat down in an arm-chair to meditate pleasantly, as young ladies who have made a satisfactory conquest are apt to do. Though reveries of that description are pleasant, realities are pleasanter, and so she was about to get up to go down into the ball-room, when a feeling that she was not alone made her turn her head, and there, standing at the open door, was the figure of old Hooker the keeper, exactly as it had appeared on the previous evening. She was a courageous girl, but her heart beat quick, and she felt that she would very much rather it had not been there. She rose from her seat, determined to confront it, when, with a sound which might be described as a plaintive cry, it glided from the door. She bravely hurried after it, exclaiming, "Stop! stop! I must insist on knowing who you are." But the passage was in total darkness, and the figure had disappeared. She had heard of the phantoms of the imagination to which some few people are subject when out of health, but she felt perfectly well, and had never had any visitation of the sort, and so, discarding all idea of a supernatural appearance, she felt convinced that somebody who had played off the trick on the previous evening had again dressed up to carry it on further. Still, therefore, undaunted by what might have frightened some ladies into hysterics, she lighted her candle, and drawing a large shawl over her shoulders, for the passages were cold, she prepared to descend to the ball-room. It would be too much to say that she had no uncomfortable sensation, or that she did not peer into the darkness ahead, and occasionally take an anxious glance over her shoulder, or that she altogether felt sure that she should not see old Hooker gliding before her, or noiselessly coming up behind her. She could not help allowing all the ghost stories she had ever heard to pass in ghastly review through her mind. Still she tried not to walk faster than she should otherwise have done; indeed, she foresaw that if she attempted to run, the wax taper she held would most probably be blown out. This, strong-minded as she was, she would very much rather should not happen. The keen wind of Christmas was blowing outside, and blasts here and there found their way along the passages, in consequence of one or two doors which ought to have been shut having been left open. Huntingfield Hall was an old edifice, and the same attention to warming the passages and shutting out the wind had not been paid when it was constructed as is the case in more modern buildings. The young lady saw before her a door partly open, but which seemed at that moment about to close with a slam. To prevent this, forgetting her former caution, she darted forward, when the same blast which, as she supposed, was moving the door, blew out her candle. She knew her way, and remembered that a few paces farther on there were two steps, down which she might fall if not careful. A creeping feeling of horror, however, stole over her when, as she attempted to advance, she felt herself held back. It must be fancy. She made another effort, and again was unable to move forward. Her heart did, indeed, now beat quickly. She would have screamed for help, but she was not given to screaming, and her voice failed her. Once more she tried to run on, but she felt herself in the grasp of some supernatural power, as a person feels in a dream when unable to proceed. Her courage at length gave way, every moment she expected to hear a peal of mocking laughter from the fiend who held her, for her imagination was now worked up to a pitch which would have made anything, however dreadful, appear possible. At length, by an effort, she cried out: "Help me! help! Pray come here!" The words had scarcely left her lips when a door in the passage opened, and she saw a person hurrying with a light towards her. "Thanks, thanks, Henry!" she exclaimed, giving way to an hysterical laugh, as she sank into the arms of Captain Fotheringsail, feeling now perfectly secure against all enemies, either of a supernatural or natural character. "What is the matter, dearest?" he asked, in a voice of alarm. "Oh, nothing, nothing. My candle went out, and I felt myself unable to move on," she answered. "I see you could not, for the skirt of your dress and your shawl have both caught in the door," he exclaimed, with a merry laugh, which did more than a dose of sal volatile or camphor would have done to dispel her fears, and, taking his arm, she accompanied him to the ball-room. Should she tell him of the reappearance of old Hooker, or some living representative? Why not? She hoped always to have the privilege of enjoying his perfect confidence, and giving hers in return, so she told him what she had seen, or fancied that she had seen, assuring him at the same time that she did not believe her visitor had intended to come to her room. Again he gave way to a peal of merry laughter, and exclaimed: " I am delighted to hear it, for now he will be caught to a certainty. I have not the slightest doubt that he intends again to visit either the ball-room or the servants'-hall, but whenever he comes we will be ready for him. I have an idea that your wild young cousin and his friend have no little to do with the trick, for I have ascertained that they arrived at the Hall some hours before they made their appearance in the ball-room in the character of sailors. When I saw their proceedings I rather regretted the character I had assumed, lest I should have been taken for one of the party." The guests were assembling in the ball-room as the captain and Jane reached it. People looked at them and smiled significantly, and some of them said, "I thought it would be so." One or two remarked, “Well, it is curious how the dark girls cut out the fair ones. Who would have thought that that little Miss Otterburn would have been preferred to her cousins the Ildertons? Lady Ilderton won't thank her, I think." However, Lady Ilderton was as much pleased when she heard that Captain Fotheringsail, whom she liked very much, had proposed to her niece, as if he had made an offer to one of her daughters; and so people, for once in a way, were wrong. Captain Fotheringsail and Jane at once separated from each other, and went round to each of the guests separately, whispering in their ears. They instantly formed themselves into a quadrille, and the musicians struck up. On this the captain slipped from the side of his partner, and adroitly ran a dark thin line across the room, almost the height of a man's knee from the floor. The quadrille was concluded and nothing happened. A valse was gone through, and then another quadrille was played. It seemed, however, that if the captain had hopes of catching the ghost, the ghost was not to be caught. He begged Cousin Giles to ascertain whether old Hooker had appeared in the servants'-hall, or anywhere about the house. Cousin Giles had assured him that he knew nothing at all about the matter, and was on the point of going to perform his commission, when, from the exact spot where the ghost had appeared on the previous day, forth he stalked, looking quite as dreadful as before. The guests ran from side to side to let him pass, when just as he reached the middle of the room he stumbled, made an attempt to jump, and then down he came full length on the floor. Off came a head and a pair of shoulders, and then was seen the astonished and somewhat frightened countenance of the simple Simon Langdon, who exclaimed, "Oh, Charley, Charley, I didn't think you were going to play me that trick." Finding that the trick was discovered, Charley dashed out from behind a screen with a tin tube and lamp in his hand, and blew a superb blue flame over Simon, who was quickly divested of his hunting-dress amid the laughter of the guests. Charley and his friend confessed that they had induced Simon to act the ghost that evening, though who had played it the previous one they did not say. "Well, young gentlemen, you have had your fun, and no harm has been done, though the consequences might have been more serious than you anticipated," said Sir Gilbert. " It requires no large amount of wit to impose on the credulous, as the spirit-rappers and mediums have shown us, and as we may learn by the exhibition of my young friend here and his coadjutors." And the baronet looked very hard at Simon and Charley. He then added, in his usual good-natured tone, "However, as I said, no mischief has been done, though I must have it clearly understood that I cannot again allow old Hooker's ghost to make his appearance at Huntingfield Hall." Note. The author has to state, that there is more truth in this story than may generally be supposed. A ghost, or spirit of some sort, was believed by a whole neighbourhood to have paid occasional visits to members of his own family, and it was not till after the lapse of many years that one of them by chance heard of the story, which had not even the shadow of a foundation. INDEX TO THE FIFTY-EIGHTH VOLUME. A. About Coming to Believe One's own About Misery Making Sport to Mock About Sage Biatrice, My Sister, 507 S. Mosely, 635 Blank, A, in the Lottery. Chap. VI. Bourbon, the Constable de. By William Sage Friends who "Always Told By Francis Jacox, 535 in 1845, 253 Bone, by, 60, 157, 287, 403, 483 Aristocracy, The French, 391 Ascher, Isidore G. The Teacher, by, B. Bessie, Moore's. By Louisa Stuart VOL. LVII. Andrews. Chap. X. Chorus Again! Breton Legend. Our Lady of Folgo-at. C. Canada in 1865. Physical, Political, 2 x Heroine thinks him one. - VI. By Constable de Bourbon, The. By Things Done, 179. About Coming D. David the Sculptor. By Theodore Don Sebastian of Portugal. By Mrs. Dudley Costello, 543 E. bleau.-II. François I.-III. Louise Eclipses: Celestial and Terrestrial, de Savoie. IV. What passed be- stable.-III. Showing how the Plot -VI. Diane de Poitiers. - VII. Costello, Dudley, 543 Costello, Louisa Stuart. Our Lady of Count, The Foreign. Chap. I. Intro- Cues from Shakspeare. By Francis |