Mrs. Carlyon's surprise when she came into the room and saw the group, and her amazement when she learnt that Edward Conroy the despised was Frank Denison the heir, may well be left to the reader's imagination. Aaron Stone at first refused to believe it: "it was but a trick o' them other Denisons," he muttered, and it did not soften his ill-feeling towards Conroy.
Other troubles were not done with yet. That evening--after dinner--and never had a happier party met under the old roof than was then assembled--when the ladies went into the drawing-room, Ella was called out of it, by her maid Adèle, to be told that the household was in a commotion. Two of the maids, who had been despatched on some errand to Miss Winter's sitting-room in the north wing, had come rushing down again in a terrible fright, asserting that the ghost of Katherine Keen had appeared to them. As a consequence, the whole of the servants were thoroughly scared. Ella whispered the news into Frank Denison's ear that night before he left for his quarters at the Rose and Crown: but it would take her some time yet ere she could remember to address him by that name. Frank made light of it to Ella, but he resolved to resume his patient watchings; which had been interrupted of late. And his patience was not put to much further trial.
The following evening, Frank--as we must now call him--instead of following his father to the drawing-room, quietly made his way to the north wing. He saw nothing. The next night he saw nothing, heard nothing. On the third night, as he was on the same seat in the darkest corner of the gallery that he was sitting on once before, when he heard those mysterious words spoken, the origin of which he had not yet been able to fathom, he was startled by hearing a low sigh, or by fancying he heard it, no great distance away.
He scarcely dared to breathe. The night was bright with stars and a young moon, and Frank's eyes, accustomed to the semi-twilight, fixed themselves in the direction from which the sound seemed to have come. Next moment he saw a dim figure emerge from the blackness of the corridor beyond and advance slowly into the starlit gallery. As it came nearer, stepping without a sound, he could see that it was robed in black from head to foot, he could see its white face and one white hand that clasped the robe closely round its throat. Frank Denison was no coward; but the figure, gliding noiselessly towards him, looked so eerie and unsubstantial by that dim light, that if his heart sank a little it was hardly to be wondered at. If he, strong and fearless man that he was, felt thus, what must be the effect of such an apparition on the nerves of timid and ignorant girls?
Nearer came the figure, and nearer. It would have passed him without noticing that he was there; but Frank nerved himself, sprang suddenly forward, and flinging out his arms seized the figure firmly round the waist. It felt tangible enough, a form of flesh and blood without doubt: he had half expected that his arms would grasp nothing but thin air. Simultaneously with this, the silence of the north wing was shattered by a piercing scream; and the figure fell into Frank's arms.
That scream did not fail to make itself heard below; two minutes later, half-a-dozen scared faces with as many lights were crowding into the gallery. One of the first on the spot was Miss Winter. She stooped and gently turned the face that was resting on Frank's arm to the light. "Why this is poor Susan!" she exclaimed. "Susan Keen!"
"Susan Keen!" repeated the wondering maids, pressing round.
Mrs. Carlyon was up now. "It can't be Susan Keen: what should Susan Keen do here?" she cried, full of incredulity.
"It is Susan: no mistake about that," said Frank. "The first thing to be done is to try and restore her to consciousness."
The girl was carried to Miss Winter's dressing-room, and placed on the sofa near the fire: the same sofa that Maria Kettle had lain on when she got her fright. Susan soon revived, and they gave her some warm wine. Shutting everybody out except Mrs. Carlyon, Ella soothed and comforted the girl with pleasant words. Gradually the eyes lost their frightened look, and the poor fluttering heart began to beat more equably. Then she was gently questioned; and, little by little, without much pressing, Susan's story was told by her own lips.