I dismally.

T was raining: raining fast, rain

Wegazed out upon the incessant downpour from the windows of the pleasant parlour at Edgewood until our hearts were chilled and our ardour dampened by the dispiriting spectacle. We had spent most of the afternoon in making a vain pretence of toiling at our fancywork, while one of our number read aloud from a book, which looked as though it might be vivacious, because there were an unusual number of paragraphs to the page; but we soon discovered that stupidity cut off into

paragraphic doses is quite as indigestible as when taken in any other form. Our spirits rose a little when Fred. Carlingsford strolled into the room, because there was in him that vital spark of cheerfulness which nothingnot even the small deluge which was being poured out upon us-could quench. But we were disappointed in him. He sauntered to the window, remarked, 'There seems to be a good deal of weather to-day,' and was about to depart, when Lena Sterling detained him a moment by exclaiming :

'Listen! Wasn't that thunder?'

'Very likely,' assented Fred. 'It's a thundering wet day.' And then he took his leave.

So it was with no slight sense of relief that we saw the darkness of the afternoon merge into the still deeper darkness of night. No doubt,' we said, 'some days must be dark and sad and dreary;' but it is almost worth while living through them for the sake of the brilliant contrast that evening brings. With a bright fire to dissipate the chill, and plenty of lights to enliven the gloom, the sound of the storm without is an added source of comfort.

We were a pleasant party of guests spending a few days within the hospitable walls of Mr. Carlingsford's home. These little gatherings were of no infrequent occurrence at Edgewood, for our host had apparently taken for his motto, 'It is not good for families to be alone;' and, in consequence, he was almost continuously surrounded by groups of merry young people, who --and I can say nothing higher in his praise-liked him as well as they did his beautiful home. But our powers of enjoyment had been severely tested by the rainy weather. On the evening of which I write, in spite of the lamps and the fire, yawns became contagious, in-door games lost their attraction, and conversation went into a decline.

'This will never do!' exclaimed Fred., at last, shutting his book with a resolute bang, which made us all look up.

Never do what?' inquired his younger brother, who was a sharp little fellow, and liked to ask ques

which contained a sham ghost, and which in consequence had produced rather an enlivening effect.

Dora,' said Kate Carlingsford, 'what was that you once told us about a ghost you professed to see here?' 'Here!' exclaimed we all, startled into sudden interest.

'Oh, no,' returned Kate, carelessly, 'not exactly in this very apartment. It was up-stairs, wasn't it, Dora, in the south room?'

Yes,' returned Dora; but I can't bear to think of it.'

'I can understand that,' said Kate, with sympathetic gravity. I remember how oddly I felt when you told me that this house, where I have always lived, was haunted, and what a strange sensation I experienced for weeks afterward, whenever I thought of that room.'

Kate was a tall, lively girl, with a limber, indolent figure and a small head. Dora Stanley, on the contrary, was under the medium height, and so formed that had she been a man she would have been called thick-set. She was prosaic rather than fanciful, and had a sweet sunny temper. The two girls had known each other from childhood, and, being entirely different, were naturally very intimate friends.

'Do tell us all about it, Dora,' entreated Kate. Nobody sleeps in the south room, so no one need feel very much roused.'

'And we are all in danger of sleeping in this room,' added Fred., unless we are a little roused.'

I think that even after this appeal Dora would have declined to divulge her ghostly experience were it not that a willingness, or rather desire to oblige, was one of the strong traits of her character. Self-denial was one of her pleasures, but it required a great effort to deny others.

'I don't think my story will afford you any entertainment,' said Dora, because, from first to last, it is nothing but a frightful mystery. I have often tried to persuade myself that it was

only a ghastly dream or a diseased fancy; but I have never in my life been troubled by dreams or delusions. Strive against it as I may, I was sure then, and I am sure now, that the creature, the apparition, the horror I saw was something, and though it does not haunt me still, I never think of it without a shudder.

Given

It is four years ago this summer, isn't it, Kate, that I accepted your invitation to spend a few weeks with you here at Edgewood? I believe I never discovered till then how large a capacity I had for enjoyment. a charming house, perfect weather, a great plenty of books, and a friend. after one's own heart, and the very genius of melancholy herself would be forced to sigh no more, unless she gave a sigh of satisfaction. We rowed on the river until our cheeks burned, and read under the trees until our eyes ached, and then we began to take long tramps over the country, visiting places of interest. But the places were not many, and our interest was not strong; so it befell that we brought our attention to bear upon objects of curiosity nearer home. One afternoon Kate and I spent most delightfully in the garret, and the next day we visited the unoccupied rooms in the wing. The south room I found peculiarly fascinating; because in it there hung a large picture with its face to the wall. We turned it with some difficulty, and there was a worn, faded old painting of a young girl, so closely resembling the one beside me that I could not repress an involuntary exclamation. It was dressed in old-fashioned garb, but had Kate's features, and her dark hair and eyes. You explain to us about the picture, Katy?'

The history of that picture,' said Miss Carlingsford, would make a long story by itself. But there is no ghost in it, so I will condense it into a few words. My great aunt, the original of that picture, was, fortunately for herself, unlike me in some respects —that is, in having a charming man

ner, a great love for society, and a genius for shining therein. Every one thought her a captivating young creature, and one person was sure of it. This was a hot-headed, red-haired youth

That's tautology,' exclaimed Fred. 'Who at once fell so deeply in love that he found it next to impossible to rise out of that pitiable condition. He proposed, she refused him; he entreated, she snubbed him; he supplicated, she laughed him to scorn.'

'In all of which ways,' remarked Fred., the elder Kate was very unlike the younger one.'

That she was!' cried his sister, with a touch of indignation. 'I hope to enjoy the sensation of refusing a decently eligible offer some day, but I'll not treat the poor fellow badly. I think the honest affection of a dog ought to be respected. But to continue. The despised young man came here to take counsel and comfort of grandmother. She, thoughtless soul, gave him the south room to sleep in, with Aunt Kate's careless eyes to watch over his slumbers. The sight of them so angered him that he uttered a horrible oath and turned the painting round with its face to the wall. the same hour that this was done Aunt Kate died. She had met with a severe accident some weeks previous, from the effects of which she was not expected to recover; but grandmother, out of a superstitious regard for the strange coincidence, kept the picture in that position until the day that Dora and I inquisitively changed it.'

In

'And we did not turn it back again before we left the room,' said Miss Stanley. 'I was younger then than I am now,' and she turned her sweet nineteen-year old face upon us, and the story impressed me deeply. A gay and careless coquette, who takes a cruel pleasure in breaking the heart of her ardent young lover, and dies in the hour that he curses her for it, is a subject that wakens into life even so dull an imagination as my own. I

thought of her continually. Neither books, nor work, nor useful play could find place in my heart at that time; for it dwelt always in that historic south room. At last, to break the strange spell that the place exerted over me, I suggested that I should sleep there; for one night only, as the playbills say. No one had occupied the room since the night on which that poor young fellow writhed under the cold eyes of his heartless lady-love, and my desire to do so was prompted in part by a keen sense of the romance of the situation. What will not one venture for the sake of a new and vivid sensation, especially when one is young and impressible. By the aid of a bright fire and abundant ventilation, the south room was given an appearance of very prosaic cheer. Nevertheless, I had a restless sense that something unusual was going to happen when Kate, after kissing me good-night, and making some mischievous allusion to the possible, though hardly expected, ghost, left me in the romance-haunted solitude. I was very tired, and soon, to my own chagrin, began to feel equally sleepy. Presently I yielded to a slumber profound and dreamless as death itself. A little after midnight I awoke as suddenly and completely as though a strong-voiced bell had been sharply clanged at my ear. But there was no sound. The wan ray of moonlight on the floor, the old-fashioned curtains about the bed, and the sweet face on the wall, looking dimly regret. ful now amid the weird shadows, all seemed to intensify the stillness. Upon the smooth surface of this profound quietude there arose a single ripple. This was a sigh-an actual, human, long-drawn breath-coming from heaven only knows where. It was a sigh full of sorrow, of heaviness, of remorse, almost of despair. I became conscious of a disturbance at my heart, and of a straining sensation in my ears and eyes. Then, from the dense gloom at the foot of the bed, a figure-a thin, sha

dowy, impalpable something- took shape, and moved with a slow floating motion across the room to the picture. There was nothing white about the apparition-it was draped in filmy black, as though it were the fearfulness of darkness embodied. A strong curiosity for the moment triumphed over other motions, and I leaned forward. The figure turned toward me, and I saw with horror, except for its ghostly pallor, that the face was identi cal with the one on the wall. It seemed an eternity to me before I could gather strength to force my trembling hands under the bed-clothes, and draw them over my face. My heart sounded to me like a drum. When I dared to look out again, everything looked as it was when I went to sleep, except that the picture was turned again with the face to the wall. My hair was not white the next morning, and I believe I did not look perceptibly older, but that night's experience made a lasting impression on my mind.'

'Why, you didn't seem to think much of it the next day,' said Kate.

'I did not say much about it,' replied Dora. One doesn't care to talk about such things.'

Of course we were too well mannered to speak lightly of Miss Stanley's ghost by recital, and equally, of course, we were neither depressed nor excited by it. Nevertheless, it was strange to observe the distrustful glances we threw at the door, which suddenly appeared to open of itself, but which, in reality, was pushed by the approaching house cat.

'I am afraid,' said Miss Stanley, from the vortex of silence into which we had all fallen, that I have succeeded in making you rather uncom fortable.'

'Not a bit,' cried little Will., stoutly, but the rest of us said nothing.

6

'It would be odd,' remarked Fred, with an attempt at his old lightsomeness, if we were not under a cloud— it's been such an unusually clondy day.'

'No,' said his sister, rolling her eyes and clasping her hands with a tragic air, it is the terrible phantom of the south room that is casting its black shadow over our affrighted hearts.'

'For pity's sake,' began Fred., seizing her arm preparatory to a shake, but Kate interrupted him with :— the mystery. I 'Let me clear away have a penitent and most remorseful You behold in confession to make. me the guilty wretch, the hardened culprit, the restless ghost that--Oh my injured friend,' suddenly breaking off and looking with eyes of mock supplication at Dora, 'say you forgive me!'

Dora did not say anything for a few moments, during which we showered a chorus of reproachful 'Oh's,' and 'How could you's,' upon our youthful hostess. Then she advanced, and with a kind of bewildered solemnity of manner,

laid forcible hands upon her friend. 'Kate,' she said, do you know what I think of you?'

'Yes,' promptly exclaimed the audacious Kate, emboldened by the gleam of a smile upon the lips of her questioner, you think everything of me!'

'Well, I can't help it,' said Dora with a sigh. 'I wish I could.' And this remark was the most ungracious we ever heard from her lips.

But in the lapse of time, that is in the course of the next five minutes, she retracted this hastily-made wish. Fred., however, persisted in considering her very deeply wronged. He paid her a great deal of attention during the remainder of her visit, and the latest news we have of her is, that she has, at Fred's urgent request, acknowledged that Kate is not the only member of the Carlingsford family of whom she thinks everything.