“Why at that precise hour?” inquired Emmeline.
“You shall hear. I was sleeping on yonder couch, and was awakened by the striking of the clock. The moon was shining brightly through the window, and I thought I saw a figure standing just where you are seated. I should have felt much more frightened than I did, if I had not been convinced it was Chetwynd; though how he came here at that time I could not imagine. I called out, but no answer was made, and I then became seriously alarmed. Suddenly, the figure, which had hitherto been looking down, raised its head, and fixed its mournful gaze upon me. I then saw that the features were those of Chetwynd, but pale as death! The phantom did not move from its position, but seemed to wave a farewell to me, and then melted away in the moonbeams.”
“And this phantom you beheld?” said Emmeline, who had listened with intense interest in the narrative.
“I saw it as plainly as I now see you,” replied the other. “Why it appeared to me, I now understand.”
The silence that ensued was broken by Mildred.
After carefully replacing the letter and the will in the envelope, she said: “Let us go down-stairs and communicate the sad news to Sir Bridgnorth. It is right he should know it.”
“True,” replied Emmeline. “But oh! dearest Mildred, I can never like Mrs. Calverley again. I look upon her as the cause of this dreadful event.”
“You do her an injustice, dear Emmeline,” said
Mildred, who, however, began to regard her stepmother with altered feelings.
“We shall see how she bears the intelligence,” said Emmeline; “and from that, some judgment may be formed.”