In places so lone as that in which we lived, the fancies of superstition have ample scope to range.  It had long been whispered through the settlement that the spirit of Conrad appeared on the spot where he had died at certain times.  When the moon beamed, a shadowy form was seen to wave its pale arms among the ruins of the church, which yet remained unchanged.  So strongly was the story believed, that after night-fall none dared to pass the spot alone.  Ella, too, had heard it, and trembled whilst she disbelieved its truth.  Our marriage morning came, and Ella was for the third time arrayed in her bridal dress.  A wreath of pearl gleamed through her hair, and lace and satin robed her peerless form—­the tinge upon her cheek might not have been so bright as once it was, but to me she was lovely—­more of mind was blended with the feelings of the heart, and gave a higher tone to her beauty.  The holy words were said, and my fondest hopes made truth.  Is it, that because in our most blissful hours the spirits are most ready fall, or was it the sense of coming ill that threw its dreary shade of sadness o’er me all that day?  The glorious sun sunk brightly to his rest, but the rose cloud round his path seemed deepened to the hue of blood.  A wailing sound came o’er the waters, and a whispering, as of woe, sighed through the leafy trees.  This feeling of despondency I tried in vain to banish; as the evening came, it grew deeper, but Ella was more joyous than ever, for a long time, she had been.  All the fairy wiles of her winning youth seemed bright as of old—­glad faces were around us, and she was the gayest of them all; when, suddenly, something from the open door met her eyes—­one loud shriek broke from her, and she rushed wildly from among us.  I saw her speed madly up the hill, where stood the church.  I was hastening after, when strong arms held me back, and fingers, trembling with awe and dread, pointed to the object of their terror—­there among the ruins stood a tall and ghost-like form, whose spectral head seemed to move with a threatening motion—­for an instant I was paralysed, but Ella’s white robes flashed before me, and I broke from their grasp.  Again I heard her shriek—­she vanished from me, but the phantom form still stood.  I reached it, and that thing of fear was but a gigantic weed—­a tall mullen that had outgrown the others on the very spot where we had found the body of Conrad; the waving of its flexile head and long pale leaves, shining with moonlight, were the motions we had seen—­but where was Ella?  The decaying logs gave way beneath her, and she had fallen into a vault or cellar beneath the building.  Meanwhile those at the house recovered their courage, and came towards us, bearing lights.  We entered the vault, and, on her knees before a figure, was Ella—­the form and dress were De Clairville’s, such as we had seen him in last, but the face, oh! heaven, the face showed but the white bones of a skeleton.  The rich brown curls still clung to the fleshless