he poor thing went to? And do
you think she died?"

For reply I rose. I had never taken my eye off madame, and the strain
upon us both had been terrible; but I let my glance wander now, and
smiling genially into the eager faces which had crowded around me, I
remarked:

"I never spoil a good story by too many explanations. You have heard all
you will from me to-night. So do not question me further. Am I not
right, madame?"

"Perfectly," came in her even tones. "And I am sure we are all very much
obliged to you."

I bowed and slipped away into the background. I was worn out.

An hour later I was passing through the hall above on my way to my own
room. As I passed madame's door, I saw it open, and before I had taken
three steps away I felt her soft hand on my arm.

"Your pardon, Mrs. Truax," were her words; "but my daughter has been
peculiarly affected by the story you related to us below. She says it is
worse than any ghost story, and that she cannot rid herself of the
picture of the young wife flitting out of sight down the hall. I am
really afraid it has produced a very bad effect upon her, and that she
will not sleep. Is it--was it a true story, Mrs. Truax, or were you
merely weaving fancies out of a too fertile brain?"

I smiled, for she was smiling, and shook my head, looking directly into
her eyes.

"Your daughter need not lose her sleep," I said, "on account of any
story of mine. I saw they wanted something blood-curdling, so I made up
a tale to please them. It was all imagination, madame; all imagination.
I should not have told it if it had been otherwise. I think too much of
my house."

"And you had nothing to found it upon? Just drew upon your fancy?"

I smiled. Her light tone did not deceive me as to the anxiety underlying
all this; but it was not in my plan to betray my powers of penetration.
I preferred that she should think me her dupe.

"Oh," I returned, as ingenuously as if I had never had a suspicious
thought, "I do not find it difficult to weave a tale. Of course such a
story could not be true. Why, I should be afraid to stay in the inn
myself if it were. I could never abide anything mysterious. Everything
with me must be as open as the day."

"And with me," she laughed; but there was a false note in her mirth,
though I did not appear to notice it. "I did not suppose the story was
real, but I thought you must have some old tradition to found it upon;
some old wife's tale or some secret hi