"You might be a soft, but I daresay you'd stand to it you are not," retorted Lizzy. "Don't I tell you that in the old days we saw that apparition when Mr. Harry was safe in his bed? When we knew him to be in his bed with that attack of fever he had? I saw it twice then with my own eyes. And once, when Mr. Harry was miles and miles away—gone over to that French place where Miss Emily was at school—it came again. Half the household saw it; and a fine commotion there was! Don't tell me, girl! I've lived in the family seven years. I came here before old Sir Thomas died." There was a pause. Harriet, evidently not discomfited, whisked away her iron to the stove, changed it, and came back again before she spoke. "I don't know anything about back times; the present ones is enough for me. Did you see this, Emma, last night?" "Yes I did," replied Emma, who was a silent and rather stupid-looking girl, with a very retreating chin. "Lizzy Dene came rushing back into the room, saying the ghost had come again, and I ran after her up to the turret window. Something was there, safe enough." "Who was it like?" "Mr. Chandos. There was no mistaking him: one does not see a tall, thin, upright man like him every day. There was his face, too, and his beautiful features quite plain; the moon gave a light like day." "It was himself, as I said," coolly contended Harriet. "It was not," said Lizzy. "Mr. Chandos would no more have been dancing in and out of the trees in that fashion, like a jack-in-the-box, than he'd try to fly in the air. It was the ghost at its tricks again." "But the thing is incredible," persisted Harriet. "Let us suppose, for argument's sake, that it is Mr. Chandos's ghost that walks, what does it come for, Lizzy Dene?" "I never heard that ghosts stooped to explain their motives. How should we know why it comes?" "And I never heard yet that ghosts of live people came at all," continued Harriet, in recrimination. "And I don't think anybody else ever did." "But you know that's only your ignorance, Harriet. Certain people are born into the world with their own fetches or wraiths, which appear sometimes with them, sometimes at a distance, and Mr. Chandos must be one. I knew a lady's-maid of that kind. While she was with her mistress in Scotland, her fetch used to walk about in England, startling acquaintances into fits. Some people call 'em doubles." "But what's the use of them?" reiterated Harriet; "what do they do? That's what I want to know."