One day, conversing with her, I said I had heard that the village was
haunted by the ghost of a woman: was that true?

Yes, it was true, she returned.

Did she _know_ that it was true? Had she actually seen the ghost?

Yes, she had seen it once. One day, when she was lady's-maid, she was in
her bedroom, dressing or doing something, with another maid. The door
was closed, and they were in a merry mood, talking and laughing, when
suddenly they both at the same moment saw a woman with a still, white
face walking through the room. She was in the middle of the room when
they caught sight of her, and they both screamed and covered their faces
with their hands. So great was her terror that she almost fainted; then
in a few moments when they looked the apparition had vanished. As to the
habit she was wearing, neither of them could say afterwards what it was
like: only the white, still face remained fixed in their memory, but the
figure was a dark one, like a dark shadow moving rapidly through the
room.

If Elfrida then, albeit still in purgatory, is able to re-visit this
scene of her early life and the site of that tragedy in the forest, it
does not seem to me altogether improbable that she herself made the
revelation I have written. And if this be so, it would account for the
_veiled_ character conveyed in the narrative. For even after ten
centuries it may well be that all the coverings have not yet been
removed, that although she has been dropping them one by one for ages,
she has not yet come to the end of them. Until the very last covering,
or veil, or mist is removed, it would be impossible for her to be
absolutely sincere, to reveal her inmost soul with all that is most
dreadful in it. But when that time comes, from the very moment of its
coming she would cease automatically to be an exiled and tormented
spirit.

If, then, Elfrida is herself responsible for the narrative, it is only
natural that she does not appear in it quite as black as she has been
painted. For the monkish chronicler was, we know, the Father of Lies,
and so indeed in a measure are all historians and biographers, since
they cannot see into hearts and motives or know all the circumstances of
the case. And in this case they were painting the picture of their hated
enemy and no doubt were not sparing in the use of the black pigment.

To know all is to forgive all, is a good saying, and enables us to see
why even the worst among us can always find