A singular notion dawned upon me. I doubted not- never doubted-that if Mr. Reed had been alive he would have treated me kindly; and now，as I sat looking at the white bed and overshadowed walls-occasionally also turning a fascinated eye towards the dimly gleaming mirror- I began to recall what I had heard of dead men，troubled in their graves by the violation of their last wishes，revisiting the earth to punish the perjured and avenge the oppressed; and I thought Mr. Reed"s spirit，harassed by the wrongs of his sister"s child，might quit its abode- whether in the church vault or in the unknown world of the departed- and rise before me in this chamber. I wiped my tears and hushed my sobs，fearful lest any sign of violent grief might waken a preternatural voice to fort me，or elicit from the gloom some haloed face，bending over me with strange pity. This idea，consolatory in theory，I felt would be terrible if realised: with all my might I endeavoured to stifle it-I endeavoured to be firm. Shaking my hair from my eyes，I lifted my head and tried to look boldly round the dark room; at this moment a light gleamed on the wall. Was it，I asked myself，a ray from the moon penetrating some aperture in the blind? No; moonlight was still，and this stirred; while I gazed，it glided up to the ceiling and quivered over my head. I can now conjecture readily that this streak of light was，in all likelihood，a gleam from a lantern carried by some one across the lawn: but then，prepared as my mind was for horror，shaken as my nerves were by agitation，I thought the swift darting beam was a herald of some ing vision from another world. My heart beat thick，my head grew hot; a sound filled my ears，which I deemed the rushing of wings; something seemed near me; I was oppressed，suffocated: endurance broke down; I rushed to the door and shook the lock in desperate effort. Steps came running along the outer passage; the key turned，Bessie and Abbot entered.