"I don't know. I did go out on the landing, but there was no one there. I'm sure it wasn't cook, for I heard her clattering the dishes down in the kitchen at the time." "Well, Jane, there is some mystery in this. I will not accept your notice; we will let matters stand over till we can look into this complaint of yours and discover the rights of it." "Thank you, ma'am. I'm very comfortable here, but it is unpleasant to suppose that one is not trusted, and is spied on wherever one goes and whatever one is about." A week later, after dinner one evening, when Bessie and I had quitted the table and left my husband to his smoke, Bessie said to me, when we were in the drawing-room together: "Mamma, it is not Jane." "What is not Jane?" I asked. "It is not Jane who watches me." "Who can it be, then?" "I don't know." "And how is it that you are confident that you are not being observed by Jane?" "Because I have seen her--that is to say, her head." "When? where?" "Whilst dressing for dinner, I was before the glass doing my hair, when I saw in the mirror someone behind me. I had only the two candles lighted on the table, and the room was otherwise dark. I thought I heard someone stirring--just the sort of stealthy step I have come to recognise as having troubled me so often. I did not turn, but looked steadily before me into the glass, and I could see reflected therein someone--a woman with red hair. Then I moved from my place quickly. I heard steps of some person hurrying away, but I saw no one then." "The door was open?" "No, it was shut." "But where did she go?" "I do not know, mamma. I looked everywhere in the room and could find no one. I have been quite upset. I cannot tell what to think of this. I feel utterly unhinged." "I noticed at table that you did not appear well, but I said nothing about it. Your father gets so alarmed, and fidgets and fusses, if he thinks that there is anything the matter with you. But this is a most extraordinary story." "It is an extraordinary fact," said Bessie. "You have searched your room thoroughly?" "I have looked into every corner." "And there is no one there?" "No one. Would you mind, mamma, sleeping with me to-night? I am so frightened. Do you think it can be a ghost?" "Ghost? Fiddlesticks!" I made some excuse to my husband and spent the night in Bessie's room. There was no disturbance that night of any sort, and although my daughter was excited and unable to sleep till long after midnight, she did fall into refreshing slumber at last, and in the morning said to me: "Mamma, I think I must have fancied that I saw something in the glass. I dare say my nerves were over-wrought." I was greatly relieved to hear this, and I arrived at much the same conclusion as did Bessie, but was again bewildered, and my mind unsettled by Jane, who came to me just before lunch, when I was alone, and said-- "Please, ma'am, it's only fair to say, but it's not Miss Bessie."