with horror, Margaret did not even then
lose her presence of mind. She wound her
strong arms around the wretched girl and
dragged her from her seat and out of the
influence of the lurid light, which immediately
paled away and vanished. She carried her to
her own bed, where Lisa lay, a wasted wreck,
raving about the cruelty of the pitiless signor
who would not see that she was labouring her
best. Her poor cramped hands kept beating
the coverlet, as thougn she were still at her
agonising task.

Margaret Calderwood bathed her burning
temples, and placed fresh flowers upon her
pillow. She opened the blinds and windows,
and let in the sweet morning air and sunshine,
and then looking up at the newly awakened sky
with its fair promise of hope for the day,
and down at the dewy fields, and far off at the
dark green woods, with the purple mists still
hovering about them, she prayed that a way
might be shown her by which to put an end to
this curse. She prayed for Lisa, and then,
thinking that the girl rested somewhat, stole
from the room. She thought that she had
locked the door behind her.

She went down-stairs with a pale, resolved
face, and, without consulting any one, sent to
the village for a bricklayer. Afterwards she sat
by Mistress Hurly's bedside, and explained to
her what was to be done. Presently she went
to the door of Lisa's room, and hearing no
sound, thought the girl slept, and stole away.
By-and-by she went down-stairs, and found
that the bricklayer had arrived and already
begun his task of building up the organ-room
door. He was a swift workman, and the
chamber was soon sealed safely with stone and
mortar.

Having seen this work finished, Margaret
Calderwood went and listened again at Lisa's
door; and still hearing no sound, she returned,
and took her seat at Mrs. Hurly's bedside once
more. It was towards evening that she at last
entered her room to assure herself of the
comfort of Lisa's sleep. But the bed and room
were empty. Lisa had disappeared.

Then the search began, up-stairs and down-
stairs, in the garden, in the grounds, in the
fields and meadows. No Lisa. Margaret
Calderwood ordered the carriage and drove to
Calderwood to see if the strange little will-o'-
the-wisp might have made her way there; then
to the village, and to many other places in the
neighbourhood which it was not possible she
could have reached. She made inquiries
everywhere, she pondered and puzzled over the
matter. In the weak suffering state that the
girl was in, how far could she have crawled?

After two days' search, Margaret returned to
Hurly Burly. She was sad and tired, and the
evening was chill. She sat over the fire wrapped
in her shawl when little Bess came to her, weeping
behind her muslin apron.

"If you'd speak to Mistress Hurly about
it, please, ma'am," she said. "I love her dearly,
and it breaks my heart to go away, but the
organ haven't done yet, ma'am, and I'm frightened
out of my life, so I can't stay."

"Who has heard the organ, and when?"
asked Margaret Calderwood, rising to her feet.

"Please, ma'am, I heard it the night you went
away—the night after the door was built up!"

"And not since ?"

"No, ma'am," hesitatingly, "not since.
Hist! hark, ma'am! Is not that like the sound
of it now?"

"No," said Margaret Calderwood; " it is
only the wind." But pale as death she flew
down the stairs and laid her ear to the yet
damp mortar of the newly-built wall. All was
silent. There was no sound but the monotonous
sough of the wind in the trees outside. Then
Margaret began to dash her soft shoulder
against the strong wall, and to nick the mortar
away with her white fingers, and to cry out for
the bricklayer who had built up the door.

It was midnight, but the bricklayer left his
bed in the village, and obeyed the summons to
Hurly Burly. The pale woman stood by and
watched him undo all his work of three days ago,
and the servants gathered about in trembling
groups, wondering what was to happen next.

What happened next was this: When an
opening was made the man entered the room
with a light, Margaret Calderwood and others
following. A heap of something dark was
lying on the ground at the foot of the organ.
Many groans arose in the fatal chamber. Here
was little Lisa dead!

When Mistress Hurly was able to move, the
squire and his wife went to Iive in France,
where they remained till their death. Hurly
Burly was shut up and deserted for many
years. Lately it has passed into new hands.
The organ has been taken down and banished,
and the room is a bed-chamber, more luxuriously
furnished than any in the house. But no one
sleeps in it twice.

Margaret Calderwood was carried to her
grave the other day, a very aged woman.

Early in December will be published, stitched in a cover,
                             price Fourpence,
                         MUGBY JUNCTION.
THE EXTRA DOUBLE NUMBER FOR CHRISTMAS,
which will contain, in addition to other STORIES to be
                       announced shortly,
BARBOX BROTHERS.
THE BOY AT MUGBY.
THE SIGNALMAN.                      By CHARLES DICKENS.
and
BARBOX BROTHERS AND CO.