es, wraiths, and airily-malicious
shadows, I will not cross your fancy. To a person of solid nerves
a banshee may be an entertaining companion, and an apparition in a
well-worn winding-sheet may be a pretty toy. For all I know, it may be
a delight to you to find your hair standing on end at the unexpected
appearance of a dead woman in a black cloak between you and the person
with whom you are engaged in animated conversation. All very well, as
a mere pastime, I say. But if you find that you are reaching a point on
which your judgment is clouded, you had better shut up the magic lantern
and take the rational view of the case."

"Perhaps you are right."

"Will you allow me to say something very frank, Unorna?" asked Keyork
with unusual diffidence.

"If you can manage to be frank without being brutal."

"I will be short, at all events. It is this. I think you are becoming
superstitious." He watched her closely to see what effect the speech
would produce. She looked up quickly.

"Am I? What is superstition?"

"Gratuitous belief in things not proved."

"I expected a different definition from you."

"What did you expect me to say?"

"That superstition is belief."

"I am not a heathen," observed Keyork sanctimoniously.

"Far from it," laughed Unorna. "I have heard that devils believe and
tremble."

"And you class me with those interesting things, my dear friend?"

"Sometimes: when I am angry with you."

"Two or three times a day, then? Not more than that?" inquired the sage,
swinging his heels, and staring at the rows of skulls in the background.

"Whenever we quarrel. It is easy for you to count the occasions."

"Easy, but endless. Seriously, Unorna, I am not the devil. I can prove
it to you conclusively on theological grounds."

"Can you? They say that his majesty is a lawyer, and a successful one,
in good practice."

"What caused Satan's fall? Pride. Then pride is his chief
characteristic. Am I proud, Unorna? The question is absurd, I have
nothing to be proud of--a little old man with a gray beard, of whom
nobody ever heard anything remarkable. No one ever accused me of pride.
How could I be proud of anything? Except of your acquaintance, my dear
lady," he added gallantly, laying his hand on his heart, and leaning
towards her as he sat.

Unorna laughed at the speech, and threw back her dishevelled hair with a
graceful gesture. Keyork paused.

"You are very beautiful," he said thoughtfully, gazing a