“Silly boy,” rejoined Annie, anxious to reassure him, for she saw that he was really frightened, “you have fancied it. What was your ghost like, pray?”
“Promise you won’t tell anybody.”
Annie, half amused, half puzzled by the boy’s earnestness, gave the required pledge. As soon as she had done so, Walter, stooping down so as to bring his mouth on a level with her ear, replied—
“It was the ghost of Mr. Arundel!”
Overcome by so unexpected a reply, Annie was a moment or so before she could find words to inquire, “My dear Walter, what could make you imagine such a thing? Perhaps you were asleep, and dreamed it—when was it?”
“No, I was not asleep; and it was not fancy,” returned Walter gravely. “I was out walking this morning early with Mr. Spooner, and we lost our way, and after trying for some time to find it, Mr. Spooner hired a boat, and told the boatman to set us down near—near—well, I forget the name, but he meant near here. When we got out, we had to go through some narrow passages between the different streets, and in one of them, which was very dark because of the high houses, we met a figure of a man, very tall, and wrapped in a long black cloak; it drew back to let us pass, and just as I got close to it it turned its head, and I saw the face; it was stem and dark, and wore a black beard, but the beautiful eyes were the same, and when I saw them I knew it was Mr. Arundel, or,” he added, sinking his voice, “his ghost!”
As his companion remained silent, he continued, “When I saw who it was, I stopped, and was just going to speak, but at that moment he stared hard at me, gave a violent start, and before I could do anything to prevent it, vanished through a dark archway.”
“Oh! you must have mistaken some one for him,” returned Annie, struggling for composure—“Mr. Arundel is probably in England, and ghosts are out of the question; besides, if there are such things, which I much doubt, they only appear after people are dead.”
Walter considered for a minute, and then met the difficulty by consolatorily suggesting, “Perhaps dear Mr. Arundel is dead—perhaps he grew so unhappy that he could not live without ever seeing Faust and me, and—ah! Annie, how could you be so cruel as to send him away?”
“I send him away, Walter! what can have put such a strange notion into your head?” exclaimed Annie, astonished at the accusation.