said it was. The house as it now stood
had apparently been only a wing of the
ancient mansion. Part of the principal
building had been completely pulled down,
but for some reason or other a portion
abutting upon the present house had been
left standing, and was converted, the lower
part into a cart-house, and the first-floor
into a place for carpenter's work, lumber,
and so forth. On the ground-floor the
communication had been walled up, where
a door had formerly opened upon a
passage running nearly the length of the
present house. A similar corridor ran
along the first-floor, and here the disused
part of the house was divided from the
dwelling only by a strong oaken door,
heavily barred and bolted. A staircase led
up from the ground-floor to this end of
the corridor; but it was seldom used, as
we inhabited the rooms at the other extremity,
and the servants' chambers were
reached also by a different stair. The
door itself looked as if it could resist
everything except treachery in the garrison,
and even a traitor would have had some
difficulty in removing the defences, so rusted
were they in their places.

There was nothing at all gloomy about
the house. The rooms were large and
light, with the ample windows
characteristic of English houses erected before
the imposition of the window-tax gave
our builders their present traditions. The
principal sitting-room was a very large
one on the ground-floor, looking nearly
south, and catching all the sunshine in its
bay-windows. These opened on a raised
terrace, beneath which was a pretty flower-
garden and there was a paddock with fine
trees beyond. The stables were of much
later date than the house, and were excellent.

Of course we soon made acquaintance
with our neighbours, and the assemblies
to see the hounds throw off on a fine morning
were very pleasant and sociable. We had
no close carriage, and our house was at a
considerable distance from any visitable
families, so at first we declined all dinner
invitations. But that sort of thing never
goes on long when those concerned are still
young, cheerful, and sociable, and very
soon we got into the way of going
frequently to dine and sleep at our
neighbours' places. At the very first of these
dinner parties, the truth came out about
Manorbere.

"It is very nice having you and Captain
Macnamara at Manorbere," said a certain
lively Mrs. Brodrick to me, when we ladies
went to the drawing-room after dinner. " I
do so hate having a house shut up; and,
indeed, there was a talk last year of its being
pulled down, since nobody would take it."

"But why would nobody take it? I
think it so charming," said I.

"Well, perhaps it is foolish; but you
know a great many people really do not
like living in a house that has such a
name."

"A name for what?"

"Being haunted."

"Haunted!"

"Good gracious! did not you know about
the ghost?"

I burst out laughing. " So that is the
reason of our getting it so cheap? I am
really very much obliged to the ghost."

"How odd that you should not have
heard of it! But I am so sorry I
mentioned it. You are so much alone there. I
hope it won't make you uncomfortable."

"Thank you; it only makes me laugh.
But do tell me the story of the house."

"Hush!" said another lady, " don't talk
about it now. Here comes Mrs. Dormer"
(our hostess), " and she never quite likes
the subject."

My curiosity, however, being roused, I
begged Mrs. Brodrick the first time an
opportunity offered for a tête-à-tête to give
me particulars as to our tiers-parti at
Manorbere. And this is the substance of
her narrative:

The last family that had lived in the house
was that of Colonel Fearon, a widower with
three daughters. They were a very pleasant,
cheerful set; hospitable as far as their
means, which were not very large, would
allow; and ready to promote or to join in
anything that was proposed in the way of
social amusement. But unfortunately a few
months after their arrival the colonel got
a bad fall out hunting, and became for a
time a confirmed invalid. He recovered
ultimately, but at that period it was feared
that he never would be himself again. His
nervous system was so affected by the blow
he had received on the spine, that he could
bear hardly any noise or company, and he
was so weak as to be reduced to a wheel-
chair in which to take air and exercise.
The family had selected for their own
occupation the same set of rooms we had
chosen for ourselves at the opposite end of
the corridor from the condemned door, and
the rooms near to it were reserved for
guests. The hitherto gay and lively house