had, however, for some time become quite
changed in character, the girls giving up
all society at home uncomplainingly, for
their father's sake. Eleanor, the eldest,
thought, however, after a time, that it was
a pity her young sisters, Effie and Lucy,
should be debarred from taking part in
the gaieties suited to their age which were
going on during the winter; so the girls
took it in turn to go out two and two
together, some neighbouring matron being
always ready to act as chaperon when they
joined her at the ball or soirée. On one of
these occasions two young friends who had
come to the same party from some distance
on the other side of Manorbere, had been
offered a night's lodging at the latter place
to save them the long winter drive after
midnight, and also that they might accompany
the Fearons to a ball on the ensuing
evening. Though it was not very late
when the girls returned home, the invalid
had retired to rest, and Eleanor was
ready to follow his example, when she
heard her sisters and their friends coming
up-stairs, and went out in her dressing-
gown to meet them, and see that they had
all things comfortable in their rooms. The
girls were in high spirits, and, though
subduing their voices lest they should waken
their father, Eleanor feared that some
incautious laugh or exclamation might disturb
him; so enjoining silence by a gesture, she
led the way to the chamber at the further
end of the corridor which had been
prepared for her guests, stirred the fire into a
bright blaze, lighted the candles, and told
them now they might laugh and chatter their
fill. The young folks did not hesitate to
avail themselves of the permission, and hung
over the fire discussing the party of that
evening, and the prospects of the morrow's
ball, till Eleanor declared she must take
her sisters away, or they would talk all
night. She had twice risen with this
intention without getting them to follow her,
and was now standing with the door half
open in her hand waiting for them, when
they saw her suddenly put her finger on
her lips, and peep cautiously out; then she
set down her candle, and stepped softly into
the passage. The others ceased talking in a
minute, and looked inquiringly towards
her. "What is it, Eleanor?" whispered
Lucy, coming to the door.

"The most extraordinary thing! I
thought I heard the door open."

"What door?" said Effie.

"Why the great barred door."

"My dear Nellie, you must be dreaming.
It is time we went to bed, indeed," said
Effie laughing, and taking up her candle.
Eleanor took hers also, but instead of
returning to her room, walked straight up to
the door and examined it closely, followed
by Lucy, who looked at her in smiling
wonder.

"Are you satisfied, dear?" said she,
pointing to the cobwebs which in many
places stretched across from the door to
its lintel.

"Yes, I must have been mistaken. But
it is very odd!"

"What did you hear, Nellie," eagerly
asked the others, coming to their room door.

"The first time I signed to you to be
silent, I thought I heard footsteps coming
gently and cautiously up the stair, and
fancied it was one of the maids. They
know I do not allow them to sit up so late,
and I waited to see who it was, stealing up
this way where they have no business. But
instead of passing by this room, the
footsteps seemed to stop at the top of the
stairs, and then the door turned slowly on
its hinges."

"Did you see it?" asked Lucy.

"Oh! no. It only sounded so."

"The wind or something."

"Perhaps. Now do go to bed, children."
And they all separated.

The next evening one of their visitors,
Isabel Murray, being rather tired declined
to go to the ball, and said she would prefer
staying to keep company with Lucy, whose
turn it was to remain with her father.
After he had gone to bed, the two girls
became so absorbed in a game of chess
that the time slipped away unobserved, and
they then bethought them of sitting up for
their sisters, to give them what is called in
Ireland, "a raking pot of tea" on their
return. The bright idea was immediately
carried out. The tea-things were set in
the guest-chamber, the fire was made up,
the maids were sent to bed, and the girls,
after partially undressing, met together
wrapt in their dressing-gowns to enjoy the
vigil. They had brought up their chess-
board and books, but presently agreed that
if they took a nap they would be all the
fresher by-and-bye; so curling themselves
up on a sofa they were soon asleep.
Perfect silence reigned throughout the house,
and in the room nothing was heard but
the soft breathing of the sleepers.
Suddenly and simultaneously both awoke and
sat up; Lucy's little dog at the same time
starting from his slumbers and pricking
his ears.