“Will you take my place for a few minutes first, please, ma’am?”

Margaret had felt a growing oppression for some time.  She had scarcely left the sick-room that day.

“Don’t leave me, dear Margaret,” said Lady Emily, imploringly.

“Only for a little while, my lady.  I shall be back in less than a quarter of an hour.”

“Very well, Margaret,” she answered dolefully.

Margaret went out into the moonlight, and walked for ten minutes.  She sought the more open parts, where the winds were.  She then returned to the sick-chamber, refreshed and strong.

“Now I will go and see what the gentlemen are about,” said Mrs. Elton.

The good lady did not like these proceedings, but she was irresistibly attracted by them notwithstanding.  Having gone to see for Lady Emily, she remained to see for herself.

After she had left, Lady Emily grew more uneasy.  Not even Margaret’s presence could make her comfortable.  Mrs. Elton did not return.  Many minutes elapsed.  Lady Emily said at last: 

“Margaret, I am terrified at the idea of being left alone, I confess; but not so terrified as at the idea of what is going on in that library.  Mrs. Elton will not come back.  Would you mind just running down to ask her to come to me?”

“I would go with pleasure,” said Margaret; “but I don’t want to be seen.”

Margaret did not want to be seen by Hugh.  Lady Emily, with her dislike to Funkelstein, thought Margaret did not want to be seen by him.

“You will find a black veil of mine,” she said, “in that wardrobe —­ just throw it over your head, and hold a handkerchief to your face.  They will be so busy that they will never see you.”

Margaret yielded to the request of Lady Emily, who herself arranged her head-dress for her.

Now I must go back a little. —­ When Mrs. Elton reached the room, she found it darkened, and the gentlemen seated at the table.  A running fire of knocks was going on all around.

She sat down in a corner.  In a minute or two, she fancied she saw strange figures moving about, generally near the floor, and very imperfectly developed.  Sometimes only a hand, sometimes only a foot, shadowed itself out of the dim obscurity.  She tried to persuade herself that it was all done, somehow or other, by Funkelstein, yet she could not help watching with a curious dread.  She was not a very excitable woman, and her nerves were safe enough.

In a minute or two more, the table at which they were seated, began to move up and down with a kind of vertical oscillation, and several things in the room began to slide about, by short, apparently purposeless jerks.  Everything threatened to assume motion, and turn the library into a domestic chaos.  Mrs. Elton declared afterwards that several books were thrown about the room. —­ But suddenly everything was as still as the moonlight.  Every chair and table was at rest, looking perfectly incapable of motion.  Mrs. Elton felt that she dared not say they had moved at all, so utterly ordinary was their appearance.  Not a sound was to be heard from corner or ceiling.  After a moment’s silence, Mrs. Elton was quite restored to her sound mind, as she said, and left the room.