“_I_ am not perplexed. _I_ can make something of it. I believe that General Eastworth is in Washington city in disguise, that he has become acquainted with the notorious fact of Erminie’s illness, and also with the less well known facts of the doctor’s frequent night calls, and old Bob’s position in the front hall, to open the front door at all hours, and I believe that he boldly ventured in to see his once betrothed. Bosh! who do you think is a fool? Didn’t I see and hear him with my own eyes and ears? True, I was staggered in my conviction of identity when old Bob insisted that it was the doctor he let in; but now that the doctor says it was not he, I am convinced it was General Eastworth, and that General Eastworth is now in Washington city, as a spy, most likely,” said Elfie, with great positiveness. “Pray, have you read the morning papers, Miss—I beg your pardon—Mrs. Goldsborough?” emphatically inquired the doctor. “I have not,” said Elfie; “why?” “Nor you, colonel?” he next asked of Justin. “I have glanced over them only. We have all been too much occupied with my sister to read them with much attention or interest,” replied Justin. “Then probably this little paragraph, concerning the gentleman we have been discussing, has escaped your attention.” “What is it?” inquired Elfie. “Read it,” said Justin. The doctor opened the paper he held in his hand and read: “THE REBEL GENERAL EASTWORTH.—The report of the death of this notorious leader is undoubtedly well founded. The Reverend Doctor Robinson, returned from Charleston under a flag of truce, confirms the tale. On the morning of the twelfth instant General Eastworth, while riding along the eastern defences of the city, was instantly killed by a shell from one of our gun-boats.” “There,” said the doctor, folding up the paper—“what do you think of that?” No one answered. Every one seemed dumb-foundered. Old Bob was the first to break the silence. Seeing amazement on every face, he gasped out: “Wha—wha—wha—wha—what does all dat mean?” “It means that you let in a ghost, Uncle Bob!” exclaimed Elfie, mischievously. “Wha—wha—wha—what ghost?” stammered the old man, with chattering teeth, starting eyes, and ashen cheeks. “The ghost of the Rebel General Eastworth, who was killed in Charleston,” said Elfie. “Oh, my Lor’! my Lor’! my Lor’! I’m a dead nigger!” exclaimed old Bob, with all the superstitious terrors of his race strong upon him. “You may leave the room, Bob,” said Colonel Rosenthal. And the old man hurried away to tell the wonderful story in the kitchen, and then to betake himself to his prayers. “Now, then, Mrs. Goldsborough, what do you say?” inquired the doctor.