why they should disquiet it so as to cause it to reappear and make disturbances, in order to discover and have things righted, as in the preceding case,—­or why this should be done in some cases of apparently less moment, while in other cases much greater family injuries seem to be suffered, and no spirit appears to interest itself in the case—­are circumstances for which we can by no means account.  A cloud sits deep on futurity; and we are so little acquainted with the laws of the spiritual world that we are perhaps incapable, in our present state, of comprehending its nature or of giving any satisfactory account of these matters.

XX

CROGLIN GRANGE

From ARCHDEACON HARE’S Autobiography[10]

“Fisher,” said the Captain, “may sound a very plebeian name, but this family is of very ancient lineage, and for many hundreds of years they have possessed a very curious old place in Cumberland, which bears the weird name of Croglin Grange.  The great characteristic of the house is that never at any period of its very long existence has it been more than one story high, but it has a terrace from which large grounds sweep away towards the church in the hollow, and a fine distant view.

“When, in lapse of years, the Fishers outgrew Croglin Grange in family and fortune, they were wise enough not to destroy the long-standing characteristic of the place by adding another story to the house, but they went away to the south, to reside at Thorncombe near Guildford, and they let Croglin Grange.

“They were extremely fortunate in their tenants, two brothers and a sister.  They heard their praises from all quarters.  To their poorer neighbours they were all that is most kind and beneficent, and their neighbours of a higher class spoke of them as a welcome addition to the little society of the neighbourhood.  On their part the tenants were greatly delighted with their new residence.  The arrangement of the house, which would have been a trial to many, was not so to them.  In every respect Croglin Grange was exactly suited to them.

“The winter was spent most happily by the new inmates of Croglin Grange, who shared in all the little social pleasures of the district, and made themselves very popular.  In the following summer there was one day which was dreadfully, annihilatingly hot.  The brothers lay under the trees with their books, for it was too hot for any active occupation.  The sister sat in the verandah and worked, or tried to work, for in the intense sultriness of that summer day work was next to impossible.  They dined early, and after dinner they still sat out in the verandah, enjoying the cool air which came with evening, and they watched the sun set, and the moon rise over the belt of trees which separated the grounds from the churchyard, seeing it mount the heavens till the whole lawn was bathed in silver light, across which the long shadows from the shrubbery fell as if embossed, so vivid and distinct were they.