frame, Martyn's eyes looking wide and scared, Clarence with the
well-known look of terror on his face. He hurried to fetch the tray
of wine and water that was always left on the table when anyone went
to a party at night, but he shivered too much to prevent the glasses
from jingling, and I had to pour out the sherry and administer it to
Emily. 'Oh! poor, poor thing,' she gasped out.

'You saw?' I exclaimed.

'They did,' said Martyn; 'I only saw the light, and heard! That was
enough!' and he shuddered again.

'Then Emily did,' I began, but Clarence cut me short. 'Don't ask
her to-night.'

'Oh! let me tell,' cried Emily; 'I can't go away to bed till I have
had it out.'

Then she gave the details, which were the more notable because she
had not, like Martyn, been studying our jottings, and had heard
comparatively little of the apparition.

'When I joined the boys,' she said, 'I looked toward the mullion
rooms; I saw the windows lighted up, and heard a sobbing and crying
inside.'

'So did I,' put in Martyn, and Clarence bent his head.

'Then,' added Emily, 'by the moonlight I saw the gable end, not
blank, and covered by the magnolia as it is now, but with stone