at what was, no doubt, the principal cause of his satisfaction.
"The moon will be long past the full when we come back," he said. "And after that there'll only be one other time before we go, won't there, Leila? We've only got this house for three months?"
"Yes," I said, "father only took it for three," though in my heart I knew it was with the option of three more – six in all.
And Miss Larpent and I were left alone, not with the ghost, certainly, but with our fateful knowledge of its unwelcome proximity.
We did not speak of it to each other, but we tacitly avoided the gallery, even, as much as possible, in the daytime. I felt, and so, she has since confessed, did she, that it would be impossible to endure that cold without betraying ourselves.
And I began to breathe more freely, trusting that the dread of the shadow's possible return was really only due to the child's overwrought nerves.
Till – one morning – my fool's paradise was abruptly destroyed.
Father came in late to breakfast – he had been for an early walk, he said, to get rid of a headache. But he did not look altogether as if he had succeeded in doing so.
"Leila," he said, as I was leaving the room after pouring out his coffee – mamma was not yet allowed to get up early – "Leila, don't go. I want to speak to you."
I stopped short, and turned towards the table. There was something very odd about his manner. He is usually hearty and eager, almost impetuous in his way of speaking.
"Leila," he began again, "you are a sensible girl, and your nerves are strong, I fancy. Besides, you have not been ill like the others. Don't speak of what I am going to tell you."
I nodded in assent; I could scarcely have spoken. My heart was beginning to thump. Father would not have commended my nerves had he known it.
"Something odd and inexplicable happened last night," he went on. "Nugent and I were sitting in the gallery. It was a mild night, and the moon magnificent. We thought the gallery would be pleasanter than the smoking-room, now that Phil and his pipes are away. Well – we were sitting quietly. I had lighted my reading-lamp on the little table at one end of the room, and Nugent was half lying in his chair, doing nothing in particular except admiring the night, when all at once he started violently with an exclamation, and, jumping up, came towards me. Leila, his teeth were chattering, and he was blue with cold. I was very much alarmed – you know how ill he was at college. But in a moment or two he recovered.
"'What on earth is the matter?' I said to him. He tried to laugh.
"'I really don't know,' he said; 'I felt as if I had had an electric shock of cold– but I'm all right again now.'
"I went into the dining-room, and made him take a little brandy and water, and sent him off to bed. Then I came back, still feeling rather uneasy about him, and sat down with my book, when, Leila – you will scarcely credit it – I myself felt the same shock exactly. A perfectly hideous thrill of cold. That was how it began. I started up, and then, Leila, by degrees, in some instinctive way, I seemed to realise what had caused it. My dear child, you will think I have gone crazy when I tell you that there was a shadow – a shadow in the moonlight —chasing me, so to say, round the room, and once again it caught me up, and again came that appalling sensation. I would not give in. I dodged it after that, and set myself to watch it, and then – "
I need not quote my father further; suffice to say his experience matched that of the rest of us entirely – no, I think it surpassed them. It was the worst of all.
Poor father! I shuddered for him. I think a shock of that kind is harder upon a man than upon a woman. Our sex is less sceptical, less entrenched in sturdy matters of fact, more imaginative, or whatever you like to call the readiness to believe what we cannot explain. And it was astounding to me to see how my father at once capitulated – never even alluding to a possibility of trickery. Astounding, yet at the same time not without a certain satisfaction in it. It was almost a relief to find others in the same boat with ourselves.
I told him at once all we had to tell, and how painfully exercised we had been as to the advisability of keeping our secret to ourselves. I never saw father so impressed; he was awfully kind, too, and so sorry for us. He made me fetch Miss Larpent, and we held a council of – I don't know what to call it! – not "war," assuredly, for none of us thought of fighting the ghost. How could one fight a shadow?
We decided to do nothing beyond endeavouring to keep the affair from going further. During the next few days father arranged to have some work done in the gallery which would prevent our sitting there, without raising any suspicions on mamma's or Sophy's part.
"And then," said father, "we must see. Possibly this extraordinary influence only makes itself felt periodically."
"I am almost certain it is so," said Miss Larpent.
"And in this case," he continued, "we may manage to evade it. But I do not feel disposed to continue my tenancy here after three months are over. If once the servants get hold of the story, and they are sure to do so sooner or later, it would be unendurable – the worry and annoyance would do your mother far more harm than any good effect the air and change have had upon her."
I was glad to hear this decision. Honestly, I did not feel as if I could stand the strain for long, and it might kill poor little Dormy.
But where should we go? Our own home would be quite uninhabitable till the autumn, for extensive alterations and repairs were going on there. I said this to father.
"Yes," he agreed, "it is not convenient," – and he hesitated. "I cannot make it out," he went on, "Miles would have been sure to know if the house had a bad name in any way. I think I will go over and see him to-day, and tell him all about it – at least I shall inquire about some other house in the neighbourhood – and perhaps I will tell him our reason for leaving this."
He did so – he went over to Raxtrew that very afternoon, and, as I quite anticipated would be the case, he told me on his return that he had taken both our friends into his confidence.
"They are extremely concerned about it," he said, "and very sympathising, though, naturally, inclined to think us a parcel of very weak-minded folk indeed. But I am glad of one thing – the Rectory there, is to be let from the first of July for three months. Miles took me to see it. I think it will do very well – it is quite out of the village, for you really can't call it a town – and a nice little place in its way. Quite modern, and as unghost-like as you could wish, bright and cheery."
"And what will mamma think of our leaving so soon?" I asked.
But as to this father reassured me. He had already spoken of it to her, and somehow she did not seem disappointed. She had got it into her head that Finster did not suit Dormy, and was quite disposed to think that three months of such strong air were enough at a time.
"Then have you decided upon Raxtrew Rectory?" I asked.
"I have the refusal of it," said my father. "But you will be almost amused to hear that Miles begged me not to fix absolutely for a few days. He is coming to us to-morrow, to spend the night."
"You mean to see for himself?"
Father nodded.
"Poor Mr. Miles!" I ejaculated. "You won't sit up with him, I hope, father?"
"I offered to do so, but he won't hear of it," was the reply. "He is bringing one of
