The ugly face of old Mildred Tarnley peeped curiously over the young lady’s shoulder. She stepped before her and peered, right and left, into the gallery; and then, with ominous inquiry into the young lady’s eyes, “I thought it might be a bat, my lady; there was one last night got in,” she said; “but there’s no such a thing now—was you afeared of anything, my lady?”
“I—didn’t you see it?” said the young lady, both frightened and disconcerted.
“I saw’d nothing, ma’am.”
“It’s very odd. I did see it; I swear I saw it, and felt the air all stirred about my face and dress by it.”
“On here, miss—my lady; was it?”
“Yes; here, before us. I—weren’t you looking?”
“Not that way, miss—I don’t know,” she said.
“Well, something fell down before us—all the way—from the top to the bottom of this place.”
And with a slight movement of her hand and eyes, she indicated the open archway before which they stood.
“Oh, lawk! Well, I dare to say it may a bin a fancy, just.”