One day after another passed, and nothing had been seen or heard to cause further alarm. She partially convinced 201 Mrs. Morris that her ghost was either the outgrowth of a vivid imagination, or that it was some person trying to frighten her.
The Misses Graves had become frequent visitors at Miss Elsworth’s. They were friendly, sociable girls, of the age of thirty-three and thirty-five respectively. Eliza, the elder of the two, was a very quiet, industrious girl, very reserved and lady-like in manner.
Eunice, although in every respect a lady, was a little more talkative, and apparently of a happier disposition.
Their brother, Rosswell, or Ross, as he was commonly called, was a fine specimen of robust manhood. His form and features were fine, and his manner prepossessing. He commanded the utmost respect, especially among the pupils of the village school, where he had taught five successive winters. Not that he was really compelled to labor unceasingly, but it was his choice to devote his leisure time to some useful occupation, so his summers were spent on the farm, and his winters in school. Mrs. Graves was a fair, little woman, with a pleasant smile, though the lines across her forehead told plainly that all had not been sunshine. She soon grew to be a favorite with Miss Elsworth, and Mrs. Morris declared “there never was such a dear little woman ever lived. She was always sending ’em down butter and eggs, and never would take a cent for any of ’em, and often she would bring her sewin’ and sit with her, and she knew it was only ’cause she was sorry for her.”
One day Miss Elsworth had seated herself in the kitchen doorway to have a little talk with Mrs. Morris while she was doing up the supper work.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha,” burst upon the air, and the rocky hills sent back rolling waves of wild, musical laughter.
Miss Elsworth listened, looking around to see from whence came the sound. “Oh, I see you,” called out a sweet, clear voice. “You cannot see me though, for I’m too far away.”
Blanche Elsworth looked up at the ledge of rocks on the opposite side of the ravine, and there, swinging almost in mid air, up and down on a slender bough, was a fair young girl. She was dressed in a loose white wrapper, and without shoes or stockings. A mass of raven hair floated about her shoulders, and fell in a half tangled fashion to her waist. Miss Elsworth arose and regardless of the entreaties of Mrs. Morris, started toward the spot where the young girl sat.
“Oh, you need not come,” she called out, “you cannot reach me.”