“Yes,” she answered, with a low lingering on the sibilant; looking round, at the same time, with an expression that implied a hope that Hugh had heard it; as indeed he had. “What! Euphra too?” said Mr. Arnold, in a tone of gentle contempt. “Do not disturb the ghost’s bed for me,” said Hugh. “It would be a pity to disarrange it, after it has lain so for an age. Besides, I need not rouse the wrath of the poor spectre more than can’t be helped. If I must sleep in her room, I need not sleep in her bed. I will lie on the old couch. Herr von Funkelstein, what proof shall I give you?” “Your word, Mr. Sutherland,” replied Funkelstein, with a bow. “Thank you. At what hour must I be there.” “Oh! I don’t know. By eleven I should think. Oh! any time before midnight. That’s the ghost’s own, is it not? It is now—let me see—almost ten.” “Then I will go at once,” said Hugh, thinking it better to meet the gradual approach of the phantom-hour in the room itself, than to walk there through the desolate house, and enter the room just as the fear would be gathering thickest within it. Besides, he was afraid that his courage might have broken down a little by that time, and that he would not be able to conceal entirely the anticipative dread, whose inroad he had reason to apprehend. “I have one good cup of tea yet, Mr. Sutherland,” said Euphra. “Will you not strengthen your nerves with that, before we lead you to the tomb?” “Then she will go with me,” thought Hugh. “I will, thank you, Miss Cameron.” He approached the table at which she stood pouring out the cup of tea. She said, low and hurriedly, without raising her head: “Don’t go, dear Hugh. You don’t know what may happen.” “I will go, Euphra. Not even you shall prevent me.” “I will pay the wager for you—lend you the money.” “Euphra!”—The tone implied many things. Mr. Arnold approached. Other conversation followed. As half-past ten chimed from the clock on the chimney-piece, Hugh rose to go. “I will just get a book from my room,” he said; “and then perhaps Herr von Funkelstein will be kind enough to see me make a beginning at least.” “Certainly I will. And I advise you to let the book be Edgar Poe’s Tales.” “No. I shall need all the courage I have, I assure you. I shall find you here?” “Yes.”