domain, but positively declined to descend,
unaccompanied by Thomas. It became necessary,
therefore, to apprise that gentleman of the
circumstance; and thus was occasioned a delay
of some three or four minutes, at the end of
which time Thomas, creeping gently down, found
all as dark, and to all appearance as secure, as
usual.

It happened that Mrs. Gauntrell was at this
time in a somewhat nervous and delicate state
of health. The servants therefore agreed among
themselves that nothing should be said to her on
the subject of the phenomenon; at all events,
until it should again occur.

It did again occur within a few days, and at
a moment when the cook, Jane, and Thomas
were together in the kitchen. On this occasion,
the increase of light was so gradual, that it for
some time escaped their observation, until
Thomas, whose eyes happened to be directed
towards a small printed paper affixed to the wall,
noticed that the words gradually became legible.

"It's a coming," said Thomas. "Don't be
afeard, Mrs. Mortimer; but, when I say 'Now,'
blow out your candle. So will I. Now."

Out went both lights. It made no difference
in the steadily augmenting splendour. The
room became as radiant as though six lustres
were burning within it.

For a half minute or so, the awe-stricken
servants sat dumb and motionless in their chairs,
when the light began to diminish, and, much
more quickly than it had come, disappeared
altogether.

Another consultation was now held. Mrs.
Mortimer, whose courage was scarcely equal to
that of the high race whose name she bore,
insisted that mistress should be told, without more
delay. The counsels of the cooler Thomas,
however, prevailed, so far as to give "the thing,"
as he affected to call it, a still further trial, and
this was done.

Twice more had the incident recurred, when
Mrs. Mortimer, "wore out," as she expressed
it, finally struck her colours, and, on the fifth
appearance, Mr. Gauntrell was warned, as
described.

It further appeared that, this last time, the
light, instead of exhibiting a steady increase,
had somewhat vacillated, waxing and waning,
withdrawing almost entirely, then returning
with greater power, yet never attaining its
maximum brilliancy, until, before Mr. Gauntrell
descended, it vanished altogether. Such was
the history.

The most minute examination of the room,
extended to the scullery adjoining, revealed
nothing to Mr. Gauntrell that could, in any
wise, point to a solution of the singular
phenomenon. The window, secured with one huge
strong shutter, offered no perceptible crevice
through which even a thread of light could
penetrate, still less the mighty flood that had been
directed into the apartment. The consternation
of the female servants was too genuine to be
mistaken. The integrity of Thomas was beyond
suspicion.

All that could be done, was to be in readiness
for the next recurrence of the event; and, for
this purpose, Mr. Gauntrell contrived an
apparatus by means of which he might be warned,
at any instant, from the kitchen, of the approach
of the phenomenon. This was, next day,
continued to other apartments above, for Mr.
Gauntrell, aware of the firmness and calm good
sense which characterised the members of his
family, made no scruple of relating to them, at
breakfast, all that had occurred.

By reason of the early habits of Grisewood
Cottage, the expected signal, when it was at
length given, found the master of the house
alone in his study. Hastily telegraphing to his
son, who was reading, still dressed, in his own
apartment, and joined him in an instant, Mr.
Gauntrell descended to the haunted precinct.

Thomas was there, alone. One candle was
burning on the table; but, already, its light was
overborne by the mysterious glow, and, when
Mr. Gauntrell extinguished it, the sole result
was to give to the growing lustre a purer and
more silvery tone. Clear and lucid as a beautiful
dawn, the strange splendour grew into the
room, lighting up every speck and crevice with
a ray as searching, though not so warm in colour,
as that of noon.

Young Gauntrell rushed to the shutter, and
drew it down. All without was pitchy
darkness, nor (strange to say) was any portion of
the lustre that prevailed within, projected into
the obscurity.

In vain did the two cool investigators search
in every direction for a possible nucleus of this
strange fount of light. It was dispersed, with
one uniform power, throughout the room. After
the lapse of a minute, or a minute and a half,
the radiance began to diminish, first slowly, then
rapidly, vanishing, at last, with a start, so to
speak, as if some one, bearing a lamp, had
suddenly closed the slide.

It would be needless to dwell upon the efforts
made by Mr. Gauntrell, aided by his family, to
arrive at some solution of this enigma, which,
puzzling as it was, they one and all believed to
lie within the province of discovery. Philosophical
conjecture, no more than material
investigation, was able to suggest the slightest clue.
Appeal to the agent proved that the phenomenon
described was identical, in character, with
those which had cost Grisewood Cottage its
good name. Still, Mr. Gauntrell did not abandon
the hope of dispelling the singular mystery.

The incident began now to recur so
frequently that the domestics—Mrs. Mortimer
excepted—grown familiar with it, discarded
their terror, and even began to regard it as a
curious performance, provided for their amusement.
Mrs. Mortimer's nerves, however, were
not proof against the strain. The kitchen was
hers; she was responsible for all that happened
there; and to have this "queer fire" burning
when it wasn't wanted, and making her hair
stand up, on account of the kitchen flue, was
more than cook could bear. As, however,
Mrs. Mortimer was an excellent servant, and