Afterwards, as we sat chatting over our Supper, we got on the Subject of Ghosts. He asked me if I believed in them. I said no.
“Well, I do,” said he, sighing. And told me of a Story he had had from the Servant of Sir Richard Hart, who, travelling with his Master, had been summoned by him early one Morning, and charged to ride Home with all Speed, a Distance of seventeen Miles, and see how fared his Daughter, whom he conceited to have seen in the Night, standing at his Bed-foot, with her Hand pressed to her Head. The Man rode back as he was told; and returned with the News that the young Lady had indeed been taken ill about four o’Clock that Morning, but had had a Doctor with her, and was now pretty well again. However, in the Course of the Day she died.
I said, “Her Father, in a Dream, may have had so strong an Impression he was waking, that to him it had all the Effect of being awake.”
“But such a Dream as should so raise the Dead, or pre-figure their Death, Cherry,” said Mark, “would be as bad as if they were raised—to us.... I think I, for one, could not stand it.” And I saw then why he was afraid to return to his own House.
We talked the Matter quietly over for some Time; and I asked him why, if the Course taken by Divine Providence in the Administration of human Affairs ever admitted of the Re-appearance of the Dead, the recorded Cases of such supposed Appearances should only be to frighten some timid Person, restore a Bag of Gold, or acquaint some one with what they would otherwise know a few Hours after. This appeared to strike him; but he said it might be for the Sake of Warning. I said, If for Warning, why not for Comfort? How glad should I have been, for Instance, to be informed supernaturally that all was well with my Father? He said, not that Way, surely. I replied yes, that Way or any Way that it had pleased the Almighty to vouchsafe me such Knowledge. I should not be afraid (and there was an Intensity of Earnestness in me as I said it) to see either him or my Mother, either in or out of the Body.
“Well,” muttered he, half under his Breath, “I wish I could feel as much with regard to my Wife.” And, regarding me with some Earnestness, added, “You’re a bold little Thing, Cherry!”
As I wished him Good-night, he stayed me for a Moment, and said, with all his old Frankness and Trust, “Violet and I have made Things out between us, Cherry.”
I said fervently, “Then, may you both be happy. My Belief is, that she is likelier to make you happy now, than she was before.”
“Not quite so pretty, though,” said he, rather regretfully. “However, I don’t mind that.—For, you see, Cherry, I love her!”
