"Indeed!"
"Oh, yes! Why, you might have heard the commotion in the front hall! Did you hear nothing of it?"
"No, dear; I have remained shut up in my room ever since breakfast—have not stirred from it," answered Mary Grey, lying without the least hesitation.
"That accounts for your knowing nothing about it. But the absurd fellow raised quite a confusion by suddenly falling down in the front hall in a spasm of terror, declaring that he had seen the spirit of his young mistress on the middle landing of the front stairs."
"An optical illusion," answered Mary Grey, in a low, tremulous tone and with her face carefully kept in the shadow.
"Of course! And it appears that he was once a servant of that reckless and unlucky Frederick Fanning of White Perch Point, who married my mother's sister. And consequently his young mistress must have been that unfortunate cousin of mine," said Emma, with a sigh.
"Does any one know what ever became of that wretched girl?" inquired Mrs. Grey, in a very low tone.
"No; but I gather from the wild talk of the boy that she is supposed to be dead. It was her spirit that he thinks he saw."
"Whatever became of her father and mother?" questioned Mary Grey in the same low tone and still keeping her face in the deep shadow.
"I do not know. I heard that they went to California. I have not heard anything of them since. But, my dear, you are talking beyond your strength. Your voice is quite faint—scarcely audible indeed. Now I advise you to lie down and be quiet," said Miss Cavendish, with some solicitude.