ne of the ghosts that appeared
and no more. The little monk skipped away, wishing us pleasant dreams.
Pleasant dreams! Never but once before--and that in the fair island of
Majorca--did we spend such a night of weird experiences. If we fell
asleep for a moment our dreams were troubled. We awoke with a start,
feeling the very thinnest veil separated us from the unseen. The
corridors were full of mysterious sounds: our own particular room was
full of sighs. Ghostly hands seemed to pass within an inch of our face,
freezing us with an icy cold wind that never came from Arctic regions.
Once we were persuaded an unearthly form stood near us; to this day we
think it. We were wide awake, and when we sat up it was still there. The
form of a monk in cloak and cowl. A strange phosphoric light seemed to
emanate from it, making it distinctly visible. The face was pale, sad
and hopeless. Large dark eyes were full of an agony of sorrow and
disappointment. It was evidently the ghost of a monk who had repented
his vows and learned too late that even a convent cell cannot bring
peace to the soul. A strange thrill passed through us as we gazed, yet
of fear or terrors we felt nothing. The sadness and beauty of the face
held us spell-bound. We found courage to address it. "Spirit of the dead
and gone, wherefore art thou here? Why wander in this unrest? Can we do
aught to ease thee of thy burden? Will our earthly prayers and sympathy
avail thee in thy land of shadows?"

No doubt there was a slight suspicion of rhythm in the words that would
have become H. C. rather than our more sober temperament; but they came
of their own accord, and we did not wait to turn them into better prose.
We listened and longed for a reply, but none came. Nothing but a
deep-drawn sigh more expressive of sorrow than all the words that ever
were coined. The singular part of it was that whilst the apparition was
visible, all the mysterious sounds and echoes in the passages ceased,
and began again when it disappeared.

As disappear it did. No word was spoken; no sign was made. For one
instant a mad thought had passed through our brain that perhaps it was
about to conduct us to some buried treasure: some Aladdin's lamp, whose
possession should make us richer than Solomon, more powerful than the
kings of the earth. But the strange light grew faint, the outlines
shadowy, until all faded into thin air. The room was once more empty;
and we held no treasure. It was a long