hing to your mistress."

The affair thus terminated, and for some days nothing further happened
to disturb the peace of the family. At the end of a week, however,
exactly a week after the appearance of the piper, Mary met with a
serious accident. She was running across the croquet lawn to speak to
her sister-in-law, when she tripped over a hoop that had been
accidentally left there, and, in falling, ran a hatpin into her head.
Blood poisoning ensued, and within a fortnight she was dead. Martha
was the only one in the house, however, who associated Mary's accident
and death with the piper; to her that sinister expression in the
mysterious Highlander's eyes portended mischief, and she could not
but suspect that, in some way or another, he had brought about the
catastrophe. The autumn waned, and Christmas was well within sight,
when another mysterious occurrence took place. It was early one Sunday
evening, tea was just over, and the Whittingen family were sitting
round the fire engaged in a somewhat melancholy conversation, for the
loss of Mary had affected them all very deeply, when they heard the
far-away rumble of a heavy coach on the high-road. Nearer and nearer
it came, till it seemed to be about on a level with the front lodge
gate; then to their surprise there was a loud crunching of gravel, and
they heard it careering at a breakneck speed up the carriage-drive.
They looked at one another in the utmost consternation.

"A coach, and driven in this mad fashion! Whose was it? What did it
mean? Not visitors, surely!"

It pulled up at the front door, and the champing and stamping of the
horses vibrated loudly through the still night air. Sounds as of one
or more people descending were next heard, and then there came a
series of the most terrific knockings at the door. The Whittingen
family stared at one another aghast; there was something in those
knockings--something they could not explain--that struck terror in
their souls and made their blood run cold. They waited in breathless
anxiety for the door to be opened; but no servant went to open it. The
knocks were repeated, if anything louder than before, the door swung
back on its hinges, and the tread of heavy footsteps were heard slowly
approaching the drawing-room. Mrs. Whittingen gave a low gasp of
horror, Ruth screamed, Harvey buried his face in his hands, Mr.
Whittingen rose to his feet, and made desperate efforts to get to the
bell, but could not stir, whilst Ma