room, an' she left her etarnal curse on her
family if so be they didn't lave her coffin there.
She wasn't goin' undher the ground to the
worms. So there it was left, an' they built up
the door. God love ye, sir, an' don't go near it.
I wouldn't have tould you, only I know ye've
seen plenty about already, an' ye have the look
o' one that'd be ferretin' things out, savin' yer
presence."

He looked at me knowingly, but I gave him
no information, only thanked him for putting
me on my guard. I could scarcely credit what
he told me about the room: but my curiosity
was excited regarding it. I made up my mind
that day to try and induce Frank to quit the
place on the morrow. I felt more and more
convinced that the atmosphere was not healthful
for his mind, whatever it might be for his body.
The sooner we left the spot, I thought, the better
for us both; but the remaining night which I
had to pass there I resolved on devoting to the
exploring of the walled-up chamber. What
impelled me to this resolve I do not know.
The undertaking was not a pleasant one, and I
should hardly have ventured on it had I been
forced to remain much longer at The Rath. But
I knew there was little chance of sleep for me
in that house, and I thought I might as well go
and seek for my adventures as sit waiting for
them to come tor me, as I had done the night
before. I felt a relish for my enterprise, and
expected the night with satisfaction. I did not
say anything of my intention either to Frank or
the old man at the lodge. I did not want to
make a fuss, and have my doings talked of all
over the countiy. I may as well mention here
that again, on this evening, when walking in
the orchard, I saw the figure of the lady digging
between the trees. And again I saw that this
figure was an illusive appearance; that the water
was her gown, and the moorland her cloak, and
a willow in the distance her tresses.

As soon as the night was pretty far advanced,
I placed a ladder against the window which was
least covered over with the ivy, and mounted it,
having provided myself with a dark lantern.
The moon rose full behind some trees that
stood like a black bank against the horizon,
and glimmered on the panes as I ripped away
branches and leaves with a knife, and shook
the old crazy casement open. The sashes were
rotten, and the fastenings easily gave way. I
placed my lantern on a bench within, and was
soon standing beside it in the chamber. The
air was insufferably close and mouldy, and I
flung the window open to the widest, and beat
the bowering ivy still further back from about
it, so as to let the fresh air of heaven blow into
the place. I then took my lantern in hand, and
began to look about me.

The room was vast and double; a velvet
curtain hung between me and an inner chamber.
The darkness was thick and irksome, and tke
scanty light of my lantern only tantalised me.
My eyes fell on some grand spectral looking
candelabra furnished with wax-candles, which,
though black with age, still bore the marks of
having been guttered by a draught that had
blown on them fifty years ago, I lighted these;
they burned up with a ghastly flickering, and
the apartment, with its fittings, was revealed to
me. These latter had been splendid in the days
of their freshness: the appointments of the rest
of the house were mean in comparison. The
ceiling was painted with exquisite allegorical
figures, also spaces of the walls between the dim
mirrors and the sumptuous hangings of crimson
velvet, with their tarnished golden tassels and
fringes. The carpet still felt luxurious to the
tread, and the dust could not altogether obliterate
the elaborate fancy of its flowery design.
There were gorgeous cabinets laden with
curiosities, wonderfully carved chairs, rare
vases, and antique glasses of every description,
under some of which lay little heaps ot dust
which had once no doubt been blooming flowers.
There was a table laden with books of poetry
and science, drawings and drawing materials,
which showed that the occupant of the room
had been a person of mind. There was also
a writing-table scattered over with yellow papers,
and a work-table at a window, on which lay
reels, a thimble, and a piece of what had once
been white muslin, but was now saffron colour,
sewn with gold thread, a rusty needle sticking
in it. This and the pen lying on the inkstand,
the paper-knife between the leaves of a book,
the loose sketches shaken out by the side of a
portfolio, and the ashes of a fire on the grand
mildewed hearth-place, all suggested that the
owner of this retreat had been snatched from it
without warning, and that whoever had thought
proper to build up the doors, had also thought
proper to touch nothing that had belonged to
her.

Having surveyed all these things, I entered
the inner room, which was a bedroom. The
furniture of this was in keeping with that of the
other chamber. I saw dimly a bed enveloped
in lace, and a dressing-table fancifully garnished
and draped. Here I espied more candelabra,
and going forward to set the lights burning, I
stumbled against something. I turned the blaze
of my lantern on this something, and started
with a sudden thrill of horror. It was a large
stone coifin.

I own that I felt very strangely for the next
few minutes. When I had recovered the shock,
I set the wax-candles burning, and took a better
survey of this odd burial-place. A wardrobe
stood open, and I saw dresses hanging within.
A gown lay upon a chair, as if just thrown off,
and a pair of dainty slippers were beside it. The
toilet-table looked as if only used yesterday,
judging by the litter that covered it; hair-
brushes lying this way and that way, essence-
bottles with the stoppers out, paint-pots
uncovered, a ring here, a wreath of artificial
flowers there, and in front of all that coffin, the
tarnished cupids that bore the mirror between
their hands smirking down at it with a grim
complacency.

On the corner of this table was a small golden
salver, holding a plate of some black mouldered