“Cornel,” said Jarvis solemnly, “and she’ll bear me witness,—­the young gentleman never heard a word from me—­no, nor from either groom or gardener; I’ll gie ye my word for that.  In the first place, he’s no a lad that invites ye to talk.  There are some that are, and some that arena.  Some will draw ye on, till ye’ve tellt them a’ the clatter of the toun, and a’ ye ken, and whiles mair.  But Maister Roland, his mind’s fu’ of his books.  He’s aye civil and kind, and a fine lad; but no that sort.  And ye see it’s for a’ our interest, Cornel, that you should stay at Brentwood.  I took it upon me mysel to pass the word,—­’No a syllable to Maister Roland, nor to the young leddies—­no a syllable.’  The women-servants, that have little reason to be out at night, ken little or nothing about it.  And some think it grand to have a ghost so long as they’re no in the way of coming across it.  If you had been tellt the story to begin with, maybe ye would have thought so yourself.”

This was true enough, though it did not throw any light upon my perplexity.  If we had heard of it to start with, it is possible that all the family would have considered the possession of a ghost a distinct advantage.  It is the fashion of the times.  We never think what a risk it is to play with young imaginations, but cry out, in the fashionable jargon, “A ghost!—­nothing else was wanted to make it perfect.”  I should not have been above this myself.  I should have smiled, of course, at the idea of the ghost at all, but then to feel that it was mine would have pleased my vanity.  Oh, yes, I claim no exemption.  The girls would have been delighted.  I could fancy their eagerness, their interest, and excitement.  No; if we had been told, it would have done no good,—­we should have made the bargain all the more eagerly, the fools that we are.  “And there has been no attempt to investigate it,” I said, “to see what it really is?”

“Eh, Cornel,” said the coachman’s wife, “wha would investigate, as ye call it, a thing that nobody believes in?  Ye would be the laughin’-stock of a’ the country-side, as my man says.”

“But you believe in it,” I said, turning upon her hastily.  The woman was taken by surprise.  She made a step backward out of my way.

“Lord, Cornel, how ye frichten a body!  Me!—­there’s awfu’ strange things in this world.  An unlearned person doesna ken what to think.  But the minister and the gentry they just laugh in your face.  Inquire into the thing that is not!  Na, na, we just let it be.”

“Come with me, Jarvis,” I said hastily, “and we’ll make an attempt at least.  Say nothing to the men or to anybody.  I’ll come back after dinner, and we’ll make a serious attempt to see what it is, if it is anything.  If I hear it,—­which I doubt,—­you may be sure I shall never rest till I make it out.  Be ready for me about ten o’clock.”