"No! We haven't got a family ghost. It's a great pity, isn't it? Ghosts generally run in families who have been bad lots, but the Erringtons have always been a steady-going set, so we haven't got even a haunted room, or a gruesome Johnnie with a clanking chain."
"I don't know if that's to be regretted," answered his wife, as she arose from the table; "besides, no one believes in ghosts now-a-days."
"A good many people do not, but I firmly believe you do."
Lady Errington laughed a little nervously.
"No! I certainly believe in presentiments, but not in ghosts--there's a great difference between the two. Are you coming with me now?"
"Yes! you surely do not want me to sit in solitary state over my wine?"
"Certainly not, and as it is such a pleasant evening, let us go outside on the terrace."
"You must wrap yourself up, Alizon," said Guy, anxiously, "the air is very keen here."
He sent a servant for her shawl, and in a few minutes they were strolling up and down the terrace, arm in arm, not talking much, but enjoying each other's company and the reposeful silence of the hour.
It was an exceptional night for November, in England, being still and restful with a moist, warm feeling in the air, and a gentle wind stirring the distant trees. No moon, no stars were visible, as the sky was hidden by heavy masses of clouds which seemed to press down on the weary earth, and a kind of luminous twilight was spread around, which made everything loom strange and spectral in its half-light.