began to be a little alarmed about her own
wits, and to ask herself whether, after all, it
was not possible that this was a trick of the
nerves. One night in January, that doubt,
at least, was settled; for there, at the same
bedpost, was the same face. Mrs. Wharton
was now, after this interval, subdued at once.
She had borne, for half-a-year, her pastor's
suspicious of her digestion and of her wisdom,
and now, she really wanted sympathy. She
let him tell her daughter (let him, rather
than tell it herself, because he could make
light of it, and she could not); and she gladly
agreed to let her daughter sleep with her.
For long, she gained nothing by it. During
the whole fortnight that the visits now
continued, Miss Wharton never once saw the
face. She tried to wake the moment her
mother touched her; she tried to keep awake;
but she never saw the face: and after that
fortnight, it did not come again till April.

One bright May dawn, she saw it. Her
mother pulled her wrist, and, she waked up
to a sight which burned itself in upon her
brain. She suppressed a shriek at the
moment; but she could not tell Mr. Gurney of
it afterwards, without tears. She wanted
that day to leave the house immediately; but
the thought of her mother's long-suffering
with this horror, the consideration of the
serious consequences of declaring themselves
ghost-seers in the town, and of the disastrous
effect upon their property, and of the
harmlessness of the ghost, induced her to summon
up her courage, and bear on. She did more.
When a little inured, she one night sprang
out of bed, rushed round the foot of it, and
out upon the landing. The stairs were still
dim in the dawn; but she was confident that
she saw something moving there–––passing
down to the hall. As soon as she could make
the servants attend her, she told them she
believed somebody was in the house; and all
the four women–––two ladies and two maids–––
went, armed with pokers and shovels, and
examined the whole house. They found
nothing, neither in the chimneys, nor under
the beds, nor in any closet–––nothing, from
cellar to attic. And when the maids had
recovered a little, they agreed what a
tiresome and wearying thing it was when ladies
took fancies. This was only their first night
of disturbance. Miss Wharton called them
up three times more; and then she gave
the matter up. The servants thought her
strangely altered, and wished she might not
be going to be ill.

Thus matters went on for some years. The
oddest thing was the periodicity of the visits.
In winter they were rare; but there was
generally a short series in or about January
after which they ceased till the end of March,
or the beginning of April. They went on
through nearly the whole summer, with one
or two intervals of about a fortnight. The
servants never suspected even the existence of
the mystery. Their ladies never mentioned
it; and no article was ever displaced at night.
The ladies became in time so accustomed to
the appearance as to bear it almost without
uneasiness. It occurred to them sometimes,
how odd it was to be living under the weight
of such a mystery; and they were silent when
ghosts were talked about, and felt and looked
very serious when they were laughed at: but
their alarm had subsided. The Thing never
did them any harm; and they had now got
merely to open drowsy eyes, to see if it was
there; and to drop asleep the moment it was
there no longer. This may seem strange to
those who have not (and also to those who
have,) seen, ghosts; but we none of us know
what we may come to; and these two ladies
reached the point of turning their heads on
their pillows, without much beating of the
heart, under the gibbering of a hideous ghost.

One circumstance worth noting is, that the
Thing once spoke. After one of its mocking
nods, it said, "I come to see you whenever I
please." When Mr. Gurney was told this, he
asked whether the language was English, and
what sort of English it was. It must have
been English, as the ladies did not observe
anything remarkable. As to the dialect, it
had made no particular impression upon them,
but when they came to remember and consider,
they thought it must have been the broad
dialect of the district, which they were
accustomed to hear in the kitchen, and in the
streets and shops, every day. This was all.
Amidst the multitude of nightly visitations,
no explanation–––no new evidence–––occurred
for several years. Mr. Gurney was not fond
of being puzzled. His plan was to dismiss
from his mind what puzzled him. He seldom
inquired after the ghost; and when he did,
he always received the same answer.

One morning, after this lapse of years, Mr.
Gurney called to ask the ladies if they would
like to join a party to see a glasshouse. The
residents of manufacturing towns, cannot
intrude in such places at their own pleasure,
but (as is well known) take their opportunity
when an arrival of strangers, or other such
occasion, opens the doors of any manufactory.
Mr. Gurney was the first man in the town,
in regard to doing the honours of it. All
strangers were introduced to him; and the
doors of all show-places flew open before him.
He was wont to invite his friends in turn to
accompany him and his party of strangers to
these show-places; and he now invited the
Whartons to the glasshouse. Miss Wharton
was unavoidably engaged at the school, but
her mother went.

When the whole party were standing near
one of the furnaces, observing the coarsest
kind of glass blowing–––that of green-glass
bottles–––Mrs. Wharton suddenly seized Mr.
Gurney's arm with one hand, while with the
other she pointed, past the glare, to a figure on
the other side of the furnace.

"That's the face! " she exclaimed, in great
agitation; "Keep quiet, and pull down your