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Sir Godfrey fell in Palestine, and had no

Ellen continued playing with her face
bowed down over the harpsichord. Margaret,
a healthy cheerful girl, had lived generally
with an old aunt in the South of England.
But the two girls were mourning. In the
flower of her years their mother had departed
from them, after long lingering in broken
health. The bandeau seemed to have been
unrolled from poor Paul's eyes, for, after a
long pause, which had been filled by Ellen's
music, he said,
" Ellen, did you ever see Sir Godfrey?"
She left her harpsichord and came to him,
and leaning down over his shoulder, kissed him.

Was she thinking of the sorrow that would
come upon him soon?

The sudden closing of a heavy door startled
us all. But a loud jovial voice restored our
spirits. Sir Francis had come in from his
afternoon walk and gossip, and was clamouring
for tea.
"Why, boys and girls, all in the dark!
What mischief are you after?
"Laughing at the Holyoke Ghost, papa,"
said Margaret.
'Laughing, indeed; you look as if you had
been drinking with him. Silly tale! silly
tale! Look at me, I 'm hale and hearty.
Why don't Sir Godfrey tackle me? I 'd like a
draught out of his flagon."
A door below us creaked upon its hinges.
Ellen shrank back visibly alarmed.
"You silly butterfly, " Sir Francis cried,
it's Thomas coming up out of the kitchen
with the candles you left me to order. Tea,
girls, Tea!"

Sir Francis, a stout, warm-faced, and
warm-hearted gentleman, kept us amused through
the remainder of that evening. My business
the next day called me to London, from
whence I sailed in a few days for Valparaiso.
While abroad, I heard of Ellen's death. On
my return to England, I went immediately to
the old cathedral city, where I had many
friends. There I was shocked to hear that
Sir Francis himself had died of apoplexy, and
that Margaret, the sole heir and survivor, had
gone back, with her health injured, to live
with her aunt in the South of England. The
dear old house, ghost and all, had been To
Let, and had been taken by a schoolmistress.
It was now "Holyoke House Seminary for
Young Ladies."

The school had succeeded through tin;
talent of its mistress; but although she was
not a lady of the stocks and backboard school,
the sickliness among her pupils had been very
noticeable. Scarlet fever, too, had got among
them, of which three had died. The school
had become in consequence almost deserted,
and the lady who had occupied the house was
on the point of quitting. Surely, I thought,
if this be Sir Godfrey's work, he is as relentless
an old goblin as can be imagined.

For private reasons of my own, I travelled
south. Margaret bloomed again; as for her
aunt, she was a peony in fullest flower. She
had a breezy house by the sea-side,
abominated dirt and spiders, and, before we had
been five minutes together, abused me for
having lavender-water upon my handkerchief.
She hated smells, it seemed; she carried her
antipathy so far as to throw a bouquet out of
the window which I had been putting together
with great patience and pains for Margaret.

We talked of the old house at
"I tell you what it is, Peggy," she said,
"if ever you marry, ghost or no ghost, you're
the heir of the Holyokes, and in the old house
you shall live. As soon as Miss Williams has
quitted, I'll put on my bonnet and run across
with you into the north.''
And so she did. We stalked together into
the desolate old house.  It echoed our tread
"Peggy," said Aunt Anne, with her eyes
quite fixed, "Peggy, I smell a smell.  Let's
go downstairs."  We went into the kitchen.
"Peggy," the old lady said, "it's very bad.
I think it's Sir Godfrey."
"O aunt! " said Margaret, laughing: he
died in Palestine, and is dust long ago."
"I'm sure it's Sir Godfrey," said Aunt
Anne.—" You fellow," to me, "just take the
bar belonging to that window-shutter, and
come along with me.  Peggy, show us Sir
Godfrey's cellar.''
Margaret changed colour. "What," said
the old lady, " flinch at a ghost you don't
believe in!  I'm not afraid, see; yet I'm sure
Sir Godfrey's in the cellar. Come along."

We came and stood before the mysterious
door with its enormous padlock. " I smell
the ghost distinctly," said Aunt Anne.
Margaret didn't know ghosts had a smell.
" Break the door open, you chap."  I
battered with the bar, the oaken planks were
rotten and soon fell apartsome fell into the
cellar with a plash. There was a foul smell.
A dark cellar had a very little daylight let
into it,—we could just see the floor covered
with filth, in which some of the planks had
sunk and disappeared.

"There," said the old lady, ''there's the
stuff your ghost had in his cup. There's
your Sir Godfrey who poisons sleepers, and
cuts off your children and your girls. Bah!
We'll set to work, Peggy; it's clear your
ancestors knew or cared nothing about
drainage. We 'II have the house drained
properly, and that will be the death of the

So it was, as our six children can testify.

Early in January will be published, (with a copious index,)
rice Three Shillings
Being a complete Record of the events of the year