"Strange! strange! I, too, heard something dreadful last night."
"Is it possible? What was it, dearest Sibyl?"
"Listen! About midnight I was awakened by something that sounded like a heavy fall right outside my door, followed by a groan so deep, so horrible, that the very blood seemed freezing in my veins. Trembling with terror, I half rose to listen; but all for a time was still. Trying to persuade myself I was only dreaming, I was about to lie down again, when a shriek the most appalling broke upon the air, and died away in an agonized moan. I dared not move; I could not sleep; and I lay cowering in superstitious horror until morning. With the bright sunshine came renewed courage, and I feared to mention what I had heard to my brother or you, lest I should be laughed at—even as you feared the same. Willard, there must be some horrible mystery here! Some foul crime, I fear, has at some time been perpetrated within those walls. What if——"
She paused.
"Well, Sibyl?" he said, inquiringly.
"Oh, Willard! what if this house has been the scene of that mystery the dying man spoke of! I thought of it from the first."
"Nonsense, Sibyl! What an idea!" And yet he looked disturbed himself, as he spoke.
"How otherwise are we to account for those ghostly visitings, those midnight apparitions, and appalling shrieks?"
"And yet nothing could induce your brother to adopt your belief. He would laugh at our credulity, were we to tell him what we have seen and heard."
"Yes; and, perhaps I had better not tell him, Willard. I will have your room changed, and my own likewise. Even if they are less comfortable, they will be more endurable than to be disturbed by midnight specters."