Britomarte laughed and answered:
“That is because since you have known her she has been in circumstances to draw out all the faults of her character. No one is perfect. But Judith would be a treasure if it were not for her absurd fears—fears of everything—beasts, guns, ghosts—what not.”
Saying which Miss Conyers sat down to the table and they finished the rubber of whist.
Next morning, under the influence of the cheerful sunlight, Judith herself was half inclined to laugh at her own superstitious terrors of the preceding night, and to admit that she might have been dreaming or deceived by an accidental likeness. But when evening came again she kept closely in the cabin, and nothing would induce her to leave it.
On the next afternoon, being the third day from the first appearance of the mysterious visitor, Miss Conyers left Judith engaged in tidying the cabin, and went up on deck to sit and read. She had not been there more than ten minutes when, with piercing shrieks and streaming hair and wild eyes, Judith came flying toward her and dropped at her feet, and buried her face in her lap.
“In the name of Heaven, Judith, what is the matter now? Are you really going mad?” exclaimed Britomarte.
“It appeared to me again! It appeared to me again!” screamed the girl.
“What?”
“The ghost! It looked in at me through the cabin windys! It had its head tied up in a cloth again and its arm in a sling! I know its come to warn me in me death! I know it has!”
“Judith! you will drive me out of my wits if you go on so. Be quiet,” said Miss Conyers, sternly.