"I know," said Charles, "at least I can imagine him; but, all the same, I don't think you know what marriage is." "Oh yes, I do!" "What is it, then?" "It's a blessed state," said Fanny, breaking into a joyous laugh; "at least I read so in some old book." "We were talking of the Prince Regent, I think," said Charles rather stiffly. "Were we? Oh yes, I remember. Well, they loved each other so much that the old book said it was a matter of common rumour, whatever that means. One night at Crockfords Mr Bevan--he was an ancestor of yours--flew into a frightful temper over some nonsense--a misdeal at cards I think it was--and called George Lambert a name, an awfully funny name; what was this it was? let me think----" "Don't think, don't think, go on with the story," cried Charles in an agony. "And George Lambert slapped Mr Bevan's face, and serve him right, too." "What is that you say?" cried Charles, wattling like a turkey-cock. "I said serve him right!" cried Fanny, clenching her little fists. "Look here----" said Charles, then suddenly he became dumb, whilst the breeze wandered with a rustling sound through the desolate garden, bearing with it from some distant street the voice of a man crying "Herrings," as if to remind them that Highgate was no longer the Highgate of the Regency. "Well?" said Fanny, still with a trace of defiance in her tone. "Nothing," answered Charles meekly. "Go on with your story." Fanny nestled closer to him as if to make up, and went on: "The Prince was in the room, and every one said he turned pale; some people said he cried out, 'My God, what an occurrence!' and some people said he cried out, 'Gentlemen, gentlemen!' And the old Marquis of Bath dropped his snuff-box, though what that has to do with the story I don't know. "At all events, the Prince left immediately, for he had an appointment to meet Fanny, and have supper with her. He must have said something nasty to her, for instead of having supper with him, she took a carriage and drove home here. She seemed greatly distressed; the servants said she spent the night walking up and down the blue corridor crying out, 'O that I ever loved such a man!' and 'Who would have thought men were so cruel!' Then, when her husband came back from fighting a duel with Mr Bevan, she was gone. All her jewels were gone too; she must have hidden them somewhere, for they were never found again. "They found her hanging in a clothes closet quite dead; she had hung herself with her garters--she must have had a very small neck, I'm sure I couldn't hang myself with mine--and now she haunts the corridor beckoning to people to follow her." "Have you ever seen her?" "No, but I am sure I have heard her at nights sometimes, when the wind is high. Father O'Mahony wanted to lay her, but I told father not to let him, she's said to be so lucky." "Lucky, indeed, to lose you a good tenant!" "It was the luckiest thing she ever did, for the hotel was awfully expensive."