softened, as was natural. The only real drawback was, that
amid all these agitations Mary lost her bloom. She began to droop and
grow pale under the observation of the watchful doctor, who had never
been otherwise than dissatisfied with the new position of affairs, and
betook himself to Mrs. Bowyer for sympathy and information. "Did you ever
see a girl so fallen off?" he said. "Fallen off, doctor! I think she is
prettier and prettier every day." "Oh," the poor man cried, with a
strong breathing of impatience, "You ladies think of nothing, but
prettiness!--was I talking of prettiness? She must have lost a stone
since she went back there. It is all very well to laugh," the doctor
added, growing red with suppressed anger, "but I can tell you that is the
true test. That little Connie Turner is as well as possible; she has
handed over her nerves to Mary Vivian. I wonder now if she ever talks to
you on that subject."

"Who? little Connie?"

"Of course I mean Miss Vivian, Mrs. Bowyer. Don't you know the village is
all in a tremble about the ghost at the Great House?"

"Oh yes, I know, and it is very strange. I can't help thinking,
doctor,--"

"We had better not discuss that subject. Of course I don't put a moment's
faith in any such nonsense. But girls are full of fancies. I want you to
find out for me whether she has begun to think she sees anything. She
looks like it; and if something isn't done she will soon do so, if not
now."

"Then you do think there is something to see," said Mrs. Bowyer, clasping
her hands; "that has always been my opinion: what so natural--?"

"As that Lady Mary, the greatest old aristocrat in the world, should come
and make private revelations to Betsey Barnes, the under housemaid--?"
said the doctor, with a sardonic grin.

"I don't mean that, doctor; but if she could not rest in her grave, poor
old lady--"

"You think, then, my dear," said the vicar, "that Lady Mary, an old
friend, who was as young in her mind as any of us, lies body and soul in
that old dark hole of a vault?"

"How you talk, Francis! what can a woman say between you horrid men? I
say if she couldn't rest,--wherever she is,--because of leaving Mary
destitute, it would be only natural,--and I should think the more of her
for it," Mrs. Bowyer cried.

The vicar had a gentle professional laugh over the confusion of his
wife's mind. But the doctor took the matter more seriously. "Lady Mary is
safely buried and done with, I a