It is nine o'clock. Dinner is a thing of the past. Even the gentlemen, having tired of each other, or the wine, or the politics, have strolled into the drawing-room, and are now indulging in such light converse as they deem suitable to our feeble understandings.
Suddenly the door is flung wide, and Bebe comes hurriedly in—so hurriedly that we all refrain from speech, and raise our eyes to rivet them upon her. She is nervous—half laughing—yet evidently scared.
"Oh, Marmaduke!" she says, with a little gasp, and going up to him and fastening her fingers on his arm, "I have seen a ghost!"
"A what?" says 'Duke.
"A ghost—a downright, veritable ghost. Now don't look so incredulous I am thoroughly in earnest. I was never in my life before so frightened. I tell you I saw it plainly, and quite close. Oh, how I ran!"
She puts her other hand to her heart, and draws a long breath.
Naturally we all stare at her, and feel interested directly. A real spectre is not a thing of everyday occurrence. I feel something stronger than interest; I am terrified beyond measure, and rising from my seat, I look anxiously at 'Duke.
"I never heard there was a ghost here before," I say, reproachfully. "Is the house haunted? Oh, 'Duke! you never told me of it—and I have gone about it at all hours, and sometimes even without a light!"
I conclude there is something comical in my dismay, as Marmaduke and Lord Chandos burst out laughing, Thornton fairly roars, while Sir James gets as near an outburst of merriment as he ever did in his life.
"Is there a ghost in your family?" I demand, rather sharply, feeling nettled at their heartless mirth.