All the children were in a moment on their feet, huddled close to their respective mothers in groups. Mrs. Harding rose and rang the bell to inquire the meaning of the uproar. Her daughter-in-law, pale as ashes, looked at George; but there was one of the party who moved not, who stirred not; it was the elder Harding, whose eyes first fixed steadfastly on the half-opened door, slowly followed the course of the wall of the apartment to the fire-place;—there they rested. When the servants came, they said they had heard the noise, but thought it proceeded from above. Harding looked at his wife; and then turning to the servant, observed carelessly, that it must have been some noise in the street, and desiring him to withdraw, entreated the bride to pursue her song. She did; but the children had been too much alarmed to enjoy it, and the noise had in its character something so strange and so unearthly, that even the elders of the party, although bound not to admit anything like apprehension before their offspring, felt extremely well pleased when they found themselves at home. When the guests were gone, and George’s wife lighted her candle to retire to rest, her father-in-law kissed her affectionately, and prayed God to bless her. He then took a kind leave of his son, and putting up a fervent prayer for his happiness, pressed him to his heart, and bade him adieu with an earnestness which, under the common-place circumstance of a temporary separation, was inexplicable to the young man. When Harding reached his bed-room, he spoke to his wife, and entreated her to prepare her mind for some great calamity. ‘What it is to be,’ said Harding, ‘where the blow is to fall I know not; but it is over us this night!’ ‘My life!’ exclaimed Mrs. Harding, ‘what new fancy is this?’ ‘Eliza, love!’ answered her husband, in a tone of unspeakable agony, ‘I have seen her for the third and last time.’ ‘Who?’ ‘MARTHA, THE GIPSY.’ ‘Impossible,’ said Mrs. Harding, ‘you have not left the house to-day.’ ‘True, my beloved,’ replied the husband; ‘but I have seen her. When that tremendous noise was heard at supper, as the door was supernaturally opened, I saw her. She fixed those dreadful eyes of her’s upon me; she proceeded to the fire-place, and stood in the midst of the children, and there she remained till the servant came in.’ ‘My dearest husband,’ said Mrs. Harding, ‘this is but a disorder of the imagination!’ ‘Be it what it may,’ said he, ‘I have seen her. Human or superhuman—natural or supernatural—there she was. I shall not strive to argue upon a point where I am likely to meet with little credit: all I ask is, pray fervently, have faith, and we will hope the misfortune, whatever it is, may be averted.’ He kissed his wife’s cheek tenderly, and after a fitful feverish hour or two fell into a slumber. From that slumber never awoke he more.—He was found dead in his bed in the morning.