Now this speech fell very pleasantly upon Mivanway's ears. In the first place it relieved her of her despair regarding Charles's future. No doubt his present suffering was keen, but there was hope for him. Secondly, it was a decidedly "pretty" speech for a ghost, and I am not at all sure that Mivanway was the kind of woman to be averse to a little mild flirtation with the spirit of Charles. "Can you forgive me?" asked Mivanway. "Forgive _you_!" replied Charles, in a tone of awed astonishment. "Can you forgive me? I was a brute--a fool--I was not worthy to love you." A most gentlemanly spirit it seemed to be. Mivanway forgot to be afraid of it. "We were both to blame," answered Mivanway. But this time there was less submission in her tones. "But I was the most at fault. I was a petulant child. I did not know how deeply I loved you." "You loved me!" repeated the voice of Charles, and the voice lingered over the words as though it found them sweet. "Surely you never doubted it," answered the voice of Mivanway. "I never ceased to love you. I shall love you always and ever." The figure of Charles sprang forward as though it would clasp the ghost of Mivanway in its arms, but halted a step or two off. "Bless me before you go," he said, and with uncovered head the figure of Charles knelt to the figure of Mivanway. Really, ghosts could be exceedingly nice when they liked. Mivanway bent graciously towards her shadowy suppliant, and, as she did so, her eye caught sight of something on the grass beside it, and that something was a well-coloured meerschaum pipe. There was no mistaking it for anything else, even in that treacherous light; it lay glistening where Charles, in falling upon his knees had jerked it from his breast-pocket. Charles, following Mivanway's eyes, saw it also, and the memory of the prohibition against smoking came back to him. Without stopping to consider the futility of the action--nay, the direct confession implied thereby--he instinctively grabbed at the pipe, and rammed it back into his pocket; and then an avalanche of mingled understanding and bewilderment, fear and joy, swept Mivanway's brain before it. She felt she must do one of two things, laugh or scream and go on screaming, and she laughed. Peal after peal of laughter she sent echoing among the rocks, and Charles springing to his feet was just in time to catch her as she fell forward a dead weight into his arms. Ten minutes later the eldest Miss Evans, hearing heavy footsteps, went to the door. She saw what she took to be the spirit of Charles Seabohn, staggering under the weight of the lifeless body of Mivanway, and the sight not unnaturally alarmed her. Charles's suggestion of brandy, however, sounded human, and the urgent need of attending to Mivanway kept her mind from dwelling upon problems tending towards insanity. Charles carried Mivanway to her room, and laid her upon the bed.