The music steadily continued, every note borne to my ears as clearly as if I had been in the room with the performer. "Very wonderful music, but soulless," I concluded, and though my curiosity was growing every moment my obstinacy prevailed, and I remained where I was. At last, after quite twenty minutes, the music suddenly stopped; it broke off in the middle of a movement.
I rose at once, and went downstairs feeling very cross. I pushed open the drawing-room door and entered. It was absolutely empty, but the piano, which had not been opened for several weeks, was open now. I went to the window which commanded the avenue; not a soul was in sight. Then I rang the bell, and when the butler entered the following dialogue took place:——
"Who was the caller who has just been?"
"There have been no callers to-day, madam."
"But surely you heard the piano being played?"
"We heard a lot of music, but we thought it was you playing, madam."
"Then you all heard it?"
"All of us in the hall heard it, madam."
I left it at that. Suddenly it came to me that I had better not push my inquiries further. Until that second it had never occurred to me that the performer might be a disembodied spirit.
The butler did not leave the matter alone, but made every inquiry at the Lodge, and also of the out-door servants, but nothing came of it. No one had seen a stranger, and the silver was intact. My maid told me some time afterwards that the household had shaken down to the conviction that I had really been the performer, and that my recent illness had caused me to forget the fact. I let this conviction remain unshaken, but I marveled at the lack of musical discrimination my household displayed. The disparity between my strumming and the brilliant execution of my spirit guest was so vast that I could not even feel flattered by their mistake.