“Still gazing at me and beating the air with its hands, the phantom rushed shrieking onwards, disappearing with the impetus of a tornado in the inhabited portion of the house.
“I had no further ‘use’ for ‘Eugene Aram.’ I returned to my mother.
“The same phenomena was witnessed by Marie and Eugenie respectively within the next three days—on the fourth we left. Had we remained, there might have been a fatality; we were all genuinely frightened—and mother is an invalid—a very nervous invalid.
“Perhaps you feel inclined to say it was all a matter of nerves. What more likely! We were an isolated quartet of over-imaginative women! Or you might say that some story we had heard in connection with the house suggested these occult demonstrations.
“Do not be premature! We only heard a few weeks ago that ‘The Hall’ had a reputation for being haunted, and it is now several months since we left Thurlow. Our informant, a former tenant, was, we have every reason to believe, a person of indisputable veracity and common sense, in short, a person quite incapable of inventing any such story as the following which he kindly narrated for our satisfaction.
“It appears from what he told us (his MS. is still in my bureau) that Thurlow Hall once belonged to Mrs. Purvis, an old lady with one child, Charles.
“Charles was, of course, the apple of her eye; Charles ruled the house; every one must obey Mr. Charles; Mr. Charles could do nothing wrong. Nothing wrong until, in the heyday of his youth, in the season of wild oats, he unexpectedly fell in love with a Gaiety girl—Phyllis (no one remembered her other name)—and married her—and THAT was very wrong.
“His mother was indignant—FURIOUS—not with Charles, of course—but with that creature—Phyllis.
“Phyllis had inveigled him into marrying her; Phyllis would bring eternal disgrace on the family; Phyllis would run away with another man and ruin him.