“Floy!”
She saw that he was deathly pale, and heard a strange tremor in his voice.
“He is frightened, and I shall easily drive him off,” she thought, exultantly; and replied:
“How dare you intrude yourself into this house again, Otho Maury? Have you forgotten how you were punished the last time?”
He glared angrily at her, and returned:
“No; but Beresford is not here to save you now.”
“But I can defend myself!” she cried, defiantly, brandishing her weapon.
“Put down that child’s toy, my dear. I am not afraid of it in the least. I could take it from you and snap it like a twig!”
“You are afraid, you wretch! Your face is ashen pale and your voice trembles with fear!” she retorted, confidently.
“If my face is pale, and my voice weak, it is not from fear of that shining little blade in your tiny hand, it is from horror at what I have seen since I entered this house. Tell me, Floy, did you know that this house is really haunted?”