e black staffs were tipped
with silver that glittered pallid in the dawn.

I exhausted my ingenuity in conjectures as to the presence of this
remarkable vehicle with the white horses, so unusual, though, when one
thinks of it, so appropriate to the chariot of Death. Could some belated
visitor have arrived in a hearse, like the lady in Miss Ferrier's novel?
Could one of the domestics have expired, and was it the intention of my
host to have the body thus honourably removed without casting a gloom
over his guests?

Wild as these hypotheses appeared, I could think of nothing better, and
was just about to leave the window, and retire to bed, when the driver of
the strange carriage, who had hitherto sat motionless, turned, and looked
me full in the face. Never shall I forget the appearance of this man,
whose sallow countenance, close-shaven dark chin, and small, black
moustache, combined with I know not what of martial in his air, struck
into me a certain indefinable alarm. No sooner had he caught my eye,
than he gathered up his reins, just raised his whip, and started the
mortuary vehicle at a walk down the road. I followed it with my eyes
till a bend in the avenue hid it from my sight. So wrapt up was my
spirit in the exercise of the single sense of vision that it was not till
the hearse became lost to view that I noticed the entire absence of sound
which accompanied its departure. Neither had the bridles and trappings
of the white horses jingled as the animals shook their heads, nor had the
wheels of the hearse crashed upon the gravel of the avenue. I was
compelled by all these circumstances to believe that what I had looked
upon was not of this world, and, with a beating heart, I sought refuge in
sleep.

"Next morning, feeling far from refreshed, I arrived among the latest at
a breakfast which was a desultory and movable feast. Almost all the men
had gone forth to hill, forest, or river, in pursuit of the furred,
finned, or feathered denizens of the wilds--"

"You speak," interrupted the schoolboy, "like a printed book! I like to
hear you speak like that. Drive on, old man! Drive on your hearse!"

The Bachelor of Arts "drove on," without noticing this interruption. "I
tried to 'lead up' to the hearse," he said, "in conversation with the
young ladies of the castle. I endeavoured to assume the languid and
preoccupied air of the guest who, in ghost-stories, has had a bad night
with the family spectre. I d