the priest of your 'priest-hole' walk?" I asked the squire one
winter evening in the House of Strange Stories.

Darkness had come to the rescue of the pheasants about four in the
afternoon, and all of us, men and women, were sitting at afternoon tea in
the firelit study, drowsily watching the flicker of the flame on the
black panelling. The characters will introduce themselves, as they take
part in the conversation.

"No," said the squire, "even the priest does not walk. Somehow very few
of the Jesuits have left ghosts in country houses. They are just the
customers you would expect to 'walk,' but they don't."

There is, to be sure, one priestly ghost-story, which you may or may not
know, and I tell it here, though I don't believe it, just as I heard it
from the Bishop of Dunchester himself. According to this most affable
and distinguished prelate, now no more, he once arrived in a large
country house shortly before dinner-time; he was led to his chamber, he
dressed, and went downstairs. Not knowing the plan of the house, he
found his way into the library, a chamber lined with the books of many
studious generations. Here the learned bishop remained for a few
minutes, when the gong sounded for dinner, and a domestic, entering the
apartment showed the prelate the way to the drawing-room, where the other
guests were now assembled. The bishop, when the company appeared
complete, and was beginning to manoeuvre towards the dining-room,
addressed his host (whom we shall call Lord Birkenhead), and observed
that the ecclesiastic had not yet appeared.

"What ecclesiastic?" asked his lordship.

"The priest," replied the bishop, "whom I met in the library."

Upon this Lord Birkenhead's countenance changed somewhat, and, with a
casual remark, he put the question by. After dinner, when the ladies had
left the men to their wine, Lord Birkenhead showed some curiosity as to
"the ecclesiastic," and learned that he had seemed somewhat shy and
stiff, yet had the air of a man just about to enter into conversation.

"At that moment," said the bishop, "I was summoned to the drawing-room,
and did not at first notice that my friend the priest had not followed
me. He had an interesting and careworn face," added the bishop.

"You have certainly seen the family ghost," said Lord Birkenhead; "he
only haunts the library, where, as you may imagine, his retirement is but
seldom disturbed." And, indeed, the habits of the great, in Engla