“It’s gone again!” whispered the woman.
“It never was!” snapped Mr. Jessup, impatiently.
“Yes it was. And I know what it was. It was a Banshee come to warn me of my own death, or my master’s, or my old missusses.”
“Stuff and nonsense.”
“It isn’t stuff, and it isn’t nonsense. It is a Banshee, if ever one appeared to mortal eyes!”
“Yes, if ever one appeared,” sneered Mr. Jessup.
“But I have heard of the Banshee, myself,” said Miss Tabs, coming to the assistance of the housekeeper.
“To be sure you have, my dear. Who in this country-side has not heard of the Banshee that appeared to the Honorable Mrs. Elverton, of Edenlawn? How Mr. Elverton was on the Continent, where he had been a many months, and Mrs. Elverton was at Edenlawn, sitting up late at night, reading in her dressing-room. The night was fine, and the curtains were undrawn, when all of a sudden she heard a low, moaning, unearthly voice outside of the window, and looking up, she saw a female figure, in flowing white raiment float past the window as if it were swimming in the air, and heard it wail forth the words—‘Hollis Elverton is no more!’ as it disappeared. Well, the lady got up and made a note of the day and the hour; and sure enough a fortnight after that, she heard of the death of her husband at St. Petersburg, and he died the very day and hour at which she had seen the Banshee! There! what do you make of that?” inquired the housekeeper, triumphantly.
“Why, as the Honorable Mrs. Elverton was just as hysterical as you be,” said Mr. Jessup, doggedly.
“But then her husband actually died at St. Petersburg at the very day and hour that the Banshee appeared to her at Edenlawn. How do you account for that?”