r first September in Donaldgowerie, and the family
welcomed with joy Ernest and his youthful bride.

The latter was not, as they had fondly hoped (and roundly announced in
Perth), the daughter of a Peer, but of a wealthy Bristol draper, the
owner of a house near the Downs, whose son had been one of Ernest's
many friends at Oxford. The coming of the newly-married pair to
Donaldgowerie brought with it a burst of bird-like gaiety. All sorts
of entertainments--musical "at homes," dinners, dances, tennis and
garden parties, in fact, every variety that accorded with the family's
idea of good taste--were given; and with praiseworthy "push," for
which the Whittingens had fast become noted, all the County was
invited. This splendid display of wealth and hospitality was not
disinterested; I fear, it might be not only accounted a "send off" for
the immaculately-clad curate and his wife, but also a determined
effort on the part of Mr. and Mrs. Whittingen to attract the right
sort of lover for their girls. It was during the progress of one of
their alfresco entertainments that the scepticism of certain of the
Whittingens with regard to the supernatural received a rude blow.
Martha, Mary, and two eligible young men, friends of Harvey's, having
finished a somewhat spirited game of croquet, were refreshing
themselves with lemonade, whilst they continued their flirtation.
Presently Mary, whose partner declared how much he should like to see
some photographs she had recently had taken of herself, with a
well-affected giggle of embarrassment set off to the house to fetch
her album. The minutes passed, and, as she did not return, Martha went
in search of her. The album, she knew, was in their boudoir, which was
situated at the end of the long and rather gloomy corridor of the
upper storey. Highly incensed at her sister's slowness, she was
hastening along the corridor, when, to her supreme astonishment, she
suddenly saw the figure of a man in kilts, with a bagpipe under his
arm, emerge through the half-open door of the boudoir, and with a
peculiar gliding motion advance towards her. A curious feeling, with
which she was totally unfamiliar, compelled her to remain mute and
motionless; and in this condition she awaited the approach of the
stranger. Who was he? she asked herself, and how on earth had he got
there, and what was he doing? As he drew nearer, she perceived that
his face was all one hue,--a ghastly, livid grey,--and that his eyes,