of satisfaction in her own appropriate attire. Powdered
hair and hooped skirt seemed more in keeping with the surroundings than
the bicycling dress of everyday life, and it was an agreeable variety to
pose as one's own great-grandmother once in a way.

Esmeralda reached the end of the gallery, and stretched a hand on either
side, to feel her way down the circular stone staircase which would lead
her into the entrance hall below. This means of descent was rarely
used, and was now in a semi-ruinous condition, the stone steps being so
much worn with the action of time that it required some little care to
descend safely in the darkness. She stood poised on each step,
extending a pretty foot to find a secure resting-place on the one below;
round the curve where the darkness was almost complete, then coming into
sight of the hall, with the moonlight making long streaks of light
across the floor, and in the distance a yellow gleam from the solitary
lamp.

Only three more steps remained to be descended, when suddenly she
stopped short, drawing her breath sharply, for there by the second
window stood a man's tall form, all straight and still, and of a curious
shining whiteness. The face was turned aside, but at the sound of that
gasping sob it turned slowly round, and a pair of keen, steel-like eyes
stared into hers.

Geoffrey Hilliard had been thoroughly enjoying this opportunity of
studying the features of the fine old hall, and making a note of them
for future use. "What a magnificent old place!" he said to himself.
"Trelawney says the man is at his last gasp, and will positively have to
turn out before long. Poor beggar! I pity him. It must be
heartbreaking to leave an old place like this, where one's ancestors
have lived for generations, where every stone has its history, and the
spirits of the departed seem still hovering in the air. Halloa, what's
that?"

He turned his head, and peering round the corner of that quaintest of
stone staircases beheld a vision at sight of which he stood transfixed
and astounded. Spirits of ancestors, indeed! Here was one before his
very eyes, a picture out of its frame, a dream of grace and beauty such
as is not vouchsafed to mortal eyes in this commonplace, matter-of-fact
twentieth century! The first glance was admiration alone, the second
brought a thrill of something uncomfortably like fear, for to the most
unsuperstitious of minds there was still something unpleasantly eer