to fantastic imagination. If the strange episode
of the previous evening had not entirely vanished from his mind, it
seemed at least fully accounted for by the acoustic explanation to which
I have alluded above. Although he saw Mr. Gaskell in the course of the
morning, he did not think it necessary to mention to him so trivial a
circumstance, but made with him an appointment to sup together in his
own rooms that evening, and to amuse themselves afterwards by essaying
some of the Italian music.

It was shortly after nine that night when, supper being finished, Mr.
Gaskell seated himself at the piano and John tuned his violin. The
evening was closing in; there had been heavy thunder-rain in the
afternoon, and the moist air hung now heavy and steaming, while across
it there throbbed the distant vibrations of the tenor bell at Christ
Church. It was tolling the customary 101 strokes, which are rung every
night in term-time as a signal for closing the college gates. The two
young men enjoyed themselves for some while, playing first a suite by
Cesti, and then two early sonatas by Buononcini. Both of them were
sufficiently expert musicians to make reading at sight a pleasure rather
than an effort; and Mr. Gaskell especially was well versed in the theory
of music, and in the correct rendering of the _basso continuo_. After
the Buononcini Mr. Gaskell took up the oblong copy of Graziani, and
turning over its leaves, proposed that they should play the same suite
which John had performed by himself the previous evening. His selection
was apparently perfectly fortuitous, as my brother had purposely
refrained from directing his attention in any way to that piece of
music. They played the _Coranto_ and the _Sarabanda_, and in the
singular fascination of the music John had entirely forgotten the
episode of the previous evening, when, as the bold air of the
_Gagliarda_ commenced, he suddenly became aware of the same strange
creaking of the wicker chair that he had noticed on the first occasion.
The sound was identical, and so exact was its resemblance to that of a
person sitting down that he stared at the chair, almost wondering that
it still appeared empty. Beyond turning his head sharply for a moment to
look round, Mr. Gaskell took no notice of the sound; and my brother,
ashamed to betray any foolish interest or excitement, continued the
_Gagliarda_, with its repeat. At its conclusion Mr. Gaskell stopped
before proceeding to the minue