no match for my aunt.
It was observed that he dwindled and dwindled gradually away, from the
day of his marriage. His wife's powerful mind was too much for him; it
wore him out. My aunt, however, took all possible care of him, had half
the doctors in town to prescribe for him, made him take all their
prescriptions, _willy nilly_, and dosed him with physic enough to cure
a whole hospital. All was in vain. My uncle grew worse and worse the
more dosing and nursing he underwent, until in the end he added another
to the long list of matrimonial victims, who have been killed with
kindness.

"And was it his ghost that appeared to her?" asked the inquisitive
gentleman, who had questioned the former storyteller.

"You shall hear," replied the narrator:--My aunt took on mightily for
the death of her poor dear husband! Perhaps she felt some compunction
at having given him so much physic, and nursed him into his grave. At
any rate, she did all that a widow could do to honor his memory. She
spared no expense in either the quantity or quality of her mourning
weeds; she wore a miniature of him about her neck, as large as a little
sun dial; and she had a full-length portrait of him always hanging in
her bed chamber. All the world extolled her conduct to the skies; and
it was determined, that a woman who behaved so well to the memory of
one husband, deserved soon to get another.

It was not long after this that she went to take up her residence in an
old country seat in Derbyshire, which had long been in the care of
merely a steward and housekeeper. She took most of her servants with
her, intending to make it her principal abode. The house stood in a
lonely, wild part of the country among the gray Derbyshire hills; with
a murderer hanging in chains on a bleak height in full view.

The servants from town were half frightened out of their wits, at the
idea of living in such a dismal, pagan-looking place; especially when
they got together in the servants' hall in the evening, and compared
notes on all the hobgoblin stories they had picked up in the course of
the day. They were afraid to venture alone about the forlorn
black-looking chambers. My ladies' maid, who was troubled with nerves,
declared she could never sleep alone in such a "gashly, rummaging old
building;" and the footman, who was a kind-hearted young fellow, did
all in his power to cheer her up.

My aunt, herself, seemed to be struck with the lonely appearance of the
hous