"Harriet, don't you be profane, and set up your back against spirituous things," rebuked Lizzy Dene. "There was a man in our village, over beyond Marden, that never could be brought to reverence such; he mocked at 'em like any heathen, saying he'd fight single-handed the best ten ghosts that ever walked, for ten pound a side, and wished he could get the chance. What was the awful consequences? Why that man, going home one night from the beer-shop, marched right into the canal in mistake for his own house-door, and was drowned." Emma replenished the stove, took a fresh iron, singed a rag in rubbing it, and continued her work. The woman, folding clothes at the back, turned round to speak. "How was the notion first taken up—that it was Mr. Chandos's fetch?" "This way," said Lizzy Dene, who appeared from her longer period of service in the family to know more than the rest. "It was about the time of Sir Thomas's death; just before it, or after it, I forget which now. Mr. Harry—as he was mostly called when he was younger—was ill with that low fever; it was said something had worried him and brought the sickness on. My lady, by token, was poorly at the same time, and kept her rooms; and, now that I remember, Sir Thomas _was_ dead, for she wore her widow's caps. At the very time Mr. Harry was in his bed, this figure, his very self, was seen at night in the grounds. That was the first of it." "If there's one thing more deceptive than another, it's night-light," meekly observed the woman. "The next time was about two years after that," resumed Lizzy, ignoring the suggestion. "Mr. Harry was in France, and one of the servants stopped out late one evening without leave: Ph[oe]by it was, who's married now. She had missed the train and had to walk, and it was between twelve and one when she got in, and me and Ann sitting up for her in a desperate fright lest Mrs. Hill should find it out. In she came, all in a fluster, saying Mr. Harry was in the pine-walk, which she had come across, as being the nearest way, and she was afraid he had seen her. Of course, we thought it was Mr. Harry come home, and that the house would be called up to serve refreshments for him. But nothing happened; no bells were rung, and to bed we went. The next morning we found he had not come home, and finely laughed at Ph[oe]by, asking her what she had taken to obscure her eyesight—which made her very mad. Evening came, and one of them telegraph messages came over the sea to my lady from Mr. Harry, proving he was in the French town. But law! that night, there he was in the dark pine-path again, walking up and down it, and all us maids sat up and saw him. My lady was ill again then, I remember; she does have bad bouts now and then." "Do you mean to say you all saw him?" questioned Harriet.