“I know the ins and outs of this place so well,—it seems so natural to come about a house in which one has lived for years.”

“My brother has arranged everything comfortably,” observed Miss Trevor. “He came down before the rest of the family on purpose to do so.”

“Ah, yes; I see. Master Bruce is a clever young gentleman, and he has done all that he could under the circumstances,” said Mrs. Jessel, lowering her tone, as she uttered the last three words, to a mysterious whisper. The black bugles in her bonnet trembled with the shake of her head, as the late attendant went on,—“But if young Mr. Trevor had taken the advice of one who knows what I know, he’d have had this room shut up as closely as the one which is next to it,—I mean the haunted chamber!” Jael Jessel’s round eyes glanced stealthily from one side to another, as if she were afraid of being overheard by some invisible listener.

Susan saw a look of uneasiness pass over the face of her young mistress, and could not help breaking silence.

“Hannah has told me this evening,” she said, “that Mrs. Myers always slept in this room, and that you, Mrs. Jessel, were on a couch beside her. Since the room was chosen for her own by the[105] mistress of the house, it must have been considered the best one.”

Mrs. Jessel did not condescend to address herself to Susan, but in speaking to Emmie virtually gave a reply to the observation made by the servant.

“My poor dear lady was perfectly deaf, she could not hear what I heard; her eyes were dim, she could not see what I saw,—or she would not have rested a second night with only a wall between her and”—again Jael glanced furtively around as she murmured—“that fearful chamber!”

“What did you see,—what did you hear?” asked Emmie, shuddering as she recalled to mind the warnings given by old Harper.

Mrs. Jessel did not wait to be asked twice; she was ready enough to impart to any credulous listener her tale of horrors. Susan was hardly restrained, by her respect for her young mistress, from repeatedly interrupting the stranger, who was doing her worst to fill the mind of a nervous girl with superstitious fears at a time when bodily weariness had prepared it for their reception. At last the indignant lady’s-maid could keep silence no longer.

“What you bore for years, Mrs. Jessel, and without being any the worse for it, could have been nothing very dreadful,” said Susan bluntly. “My lady knows that a good Providence is as near her in[106] this room as anywhere else, and that they who keep a clear conscience need fear neither goblin nor ghost!”

“Ah, well, we shall see, we shall see,” observed Mrs. Jessel, drawing her black shawl closer around her, as a preparation for departure. “I don’t believe there’s a being who knows the place that would go through the wood at night but myself; but, as you say, a clear conscience gives courage. I wish you a good night, Miss Trevor,” added Jael, courtesying formally to the lady; “but, to my mind, you’d have a better chance of one if you were to sleep in a different room.”

Mrs. Jessel quitted the apartment; but she left behind her the painful impression which her words were calculated to make on a mind such as Emmie’s,—a mind not yet sufficiently disciplined by self-control, or influenced by faith, to bring reason and religion to bear upon superstitious fears and nervous forebodings.

Emmie rose from the sofa, and took two or three turns up and down her apartment; while Susan occupied herself in trimming the fire. The young lady then stopped abruptly in her walk.

“Susan,” she said, “I cannot sleep in this room!” It was humiliating to utter such a confession, even to a domestic.

“Oh, Miss Emmie, if you would let me be beside[107] you to-night—” began Susan; but Emmie did not heed her attendant’s suggestion.

“I could not close my eyes all the night, and I do so sadly need rest. I will go to my brother and ask him to make arrangements for at once changing my room.”

“But Master Bruce will be so much disappointed,” expostulated Susan. “He has spared no pains to have everything just as you would like it to be.”

“I cannot sleep here,” repeated Emmie, who was trembling with nervous excitement. “You will soon move my things—I care not whither—so that it be to the other side of the house, as far as possible from the bricked-up room.”

Emmie hastily quitted the apartment, and drawing back the tapestry curtain, passed on to the head of the staircase. The house appeared to her dreary, empty, and cold, as she glided down the broad oaken steps, almost afraid to look behind her. Emmie soon reached the wide hall, and, guided by the light of the lamp in the drawing-room, of which the door was open, she entered it, and found Bruce Trevor alone.

“I hope that you feel rested, Emmie,” said her brother, advancing to meet her. The clouded brow of Bruce still showed token of the angry altercation which had passed between him and Vibert.[108]

“I cannot rest in that room, dear,” faltered Emmie, avoiding meeting her brother’s inquiring gaze.

“Not rest—why not?” asked Bruce in surprise.

Emmie coloured with shame as she stammered forth her reply. “I know that you will think it so silly—it—it is silly, I own, but—but I would rather be in any other part of the house than next door to the haunted chamber!”

“This is folly, Emmie, pure folly,” expostulated Bruce. “You know that a great part of the dwelling is at present uninhabitable, and cannot be used for months. There are but two upper rooms fitted up comfortably; the one is my father’s—he chose it himself; the other is given to you. Vibert and I can put up anywhere; our two little rooms, just beyond my father’s, have been left as I found them, save that the housemaid has been induced to clear a few cobwebs away. I could not possibly allow you, accustomed as you are to have comforts around you, to occupy one of those bare cells at the coldest side of the house.”

“I should prefer—oh, so greatly prefer one of those small rooms to my present one!” exclaimed Emmie. “Where I now am expected to sleep, that horrid tapestry curtain divides me from every other living being, and I am so close to the bricked-up[109] room, that if so much as a mouse stirred in it, the sound would keep me awake. Dear Bruce, you who are so firm, and brave, and wise, you cannot tell what I feel.