“No; that is, I don’t feel any fear now.  Whether I should do so if face to face with one, is another question.  This house has the reputation of being haunted, I believe.  Have you seen the ghost yourself?”

“No, but I have seen others who did, or thought they did.  Do you believe in ghosts?”

“I do not know that I have considered the subject sufficiently to say whether I do or not.  I see no prima facie objection to their appearance.  That it would be supernatural offers no difficulty to a Christian whose religion is founded on, and bound up with, the supernatural.”

“If you do see anything, I should like to know.”

I went away, wondering why he repelled as well as attracted me; what it was behind the almost awe-inspiring purity and earnestness I felt in him that left me with a chill sense of disappointment?  The question was so perplexing and so interesting that I determined to follow it up next day, and ordered my servant to call me as early as Mr. Austyn was wakened.

In the morning I had just finished dressing, but had not put out my candles, when a knock at the door was followed by the entrance of Austyn himself.

“I did not expect to find you up, Mr. Lyndsay; I knocked gently, lest you should be asleep.  In case you were not, I intended to come and tell you that I had seen the ghost.”

“Breakfast is ready,” said a servant at the door.

“Let me come down with you and hear about it,” I said.

We went down through staircase and hall, still plunged in darkness, to the dining-room, where lamps and fire burned brightly.  Their glow falling on Austyn’s face showed me how pale it was, and worn as if from watching.

Breakfast was set ready for him, but he refused to touch it.

“But tell me what you saw.”

“I must have slept two or three hours when I awoke with the feeling that there was someone besides myself in the room.  I thought at first it was the remains of a dream and would quickly fade away; but it did not, it grew stronger.  Then I raised myself in bed and looked round.  The space between the sash of the window and the curtains—­my shutters were not closed—­allowed one narrow stream of moonlight to enter and lie across the floor.  Near this, standing on the brink of it, as it were, and rising dark against it, was a shadowy figure.  Nothing was clearly outlined but the face; that I saw only too distinctly.  I rose and remained up for at least an hour before it vanished.  I heard the clock outside strike the hour twice.  I was not looking at it all this time—­on the contrary, my hands were clasped across my closed eyes; but when from time to time I turned to see if it was gone, it was reminded me of a wild beast waiting to spring, and I seemed to myself to be holding it at bay all the time with a great strain of the will, and, of course”—­he hesitated for an instant, and then added—­“in virtue of a higher power.”