"Do be reasonable," said my mother, rather impatiently, for she was tired and not very well. "Stop crying, and tell me what has scared you."
It was not easy to pacify Jeanne, but we succeeded at last, and then the truth came out. Mrs. Betty had told her that a headless woman with fiery eyes came out of a secret closet in the hall of that room, which no one had been able to find, and that whoever saw her became blind.
"Where does she keep her fiery eyes, if she has no head—in her pocket?" I asked, laughing at this very original ghost. "Perhaps she carries them on a dish before her, like St. What's-her-name in the picture."
"Ah, mamselle! Do not laugh. I did indeed see something—two fiery eyes in the dark—and my eyes have not felt right since."
"The eyes of that great gray cat which is always following you up-stairs and down," said my mother. Then, seeing that the poor woman was really unhappy, she tried to reason her out of her fears on religious grounds, but, as usually happens in such cases, without much success. Jeanne owned the truth of all she said; but—
Finally my mother gave way, and asked my aunt to allow a cot-bed to be put into the large light closet which opened from my mother's room.
"Why, certainly, if you like to have her there," said my aunt. "You know I thought it would be more convenient for you, in the first place."
"It is not that exactly," replied my mother; "but Jeanne has taken a fit of superstitious terror and is afraid of, I know not what apparition, which some one has told her comes out of a closet in the wall of her room. I have reasoned with her, but, of course, to no purpose."
"Is there really such a ghost about the house, aunt?" I asked.
"There used to be an old story to that effect," said my aunt; "but I do not know that any one has ever seen the apparition. Cornwall is famous for such things. You shall hardly find an old hall or mansion in the country which has not its tale of wonder."