Durnford rang the bell, and the housekeeper came with a couple of maids, carrying wax candles; and the ladies gathered up their cloaks and hoods, and prepared to be ushered to their several rooms.
"One word, Lavendale," cried the vivacious Dowager, wheeling suddenly on the threshold: "is there a ghost?"
"There is the ghost which appeared to Saul, madam, in the twenty-seventh chapter of the first book of Samuel."
"Pshaw, coxcomb! you know what I mean. Is this fine old house of yours haunted? It ought to be, if you lay claim to respectability. Have you ever seen a ghost within these walls?"
"Not one, your ladyship, but a hundred. The ghosts of lost hopes, the ghosts of good resolutions, the phantom of my boyish innocence, the shadow of my wasted youth, the spectre of my dissolute manhood. These rooms were full of ghosts, Lady Polwhele, till this dear lady," taking Judith's hand and kissing it, "exorcised them all by her magical presence. You will find no ghosts to-night. Love has laid them."
"Au revoir, Count Rhodomont: I think that should be your name," said the Dowager, as she skipped lightly off, followed by the other women.
Everybody was delighted with everything: the rooms, the fires, and bright clusters of candles, shining upon old Venetian looking-glasses in silvered frames; the oak passages, which would have seemed gloomy enough had the house been dark and empty, but which were now lighted by wax candles in polished brass sconces, and garnished with garlands of evergreens.
There was an air of Christmas gaiety and gladness throughout the house.
"And yet I am convinced there is a ghost," protested Lady Polwhele.