My own dress was shabby but what of that! No one seemed aware of it, no one noticed me; I was a nonentity, mute, a consuming machine; in no one’s way because each of my neighbours was far too engrossed in eating to care about carrying on a conversation. Once I thought a lady cast a half enviable glance at my hands; they are my best point, particularly so, when nicely manicured--and once I imagined, dear Robert, but there, THAT was only imagination. Well the dinner, like all good things, came to an end at last. I enjoyed the dessert most; the bonbons were heavenly; every one ate them as if they were hungry; I caught myself actually pitying our hostess. At a signal from miladi, we all got up; I left the other ladies in the hall; they trooped away to fetch their purses, whilst I, feeling very much like some poor whipped schoolgirl, slunk off to the ball-room. It was not until the door closed behind me, I understood the full horror of the situation; I was alone! for the second time within twenty-four hours--in that chamber--Alone! Alone save for those foul pollutions that might rise at any instant from beneath the floor. I believe, even then, I would have flown had not the stubbornness and pride innate in all my family restrained me. Come what would, her ladyship should never call me a coward. So--I stuck to my post with heroic resolutions. Much as I suffered the previous day, my sufferings then in comparison with now were small, nor did the dreadful anticipations that tortured me without cessation as I sat there, waiting for the boards to part asunder, in any way surpass the awful realisation. Step by step, detail by detail the psychic drama was repeated in all its damnable horror; my recovery after witnessing it being slower on this occasion, accompanied by relapses into a state of terror too painful even to recall. Yet I survived and succeeded in so far pulling myself together, that I met the kindly greeting of her ladyship at breakfast next morning with a calm and unembarrassed air. She did not suspect me. Once again the ordeal came and miladi, with a refinement of cruelty worthy of her steel-blue eyes and thin lips, herself conducted me to the fatal ball-room. “To-morrow, you will have company,” she murmured, her face shining white amid that semi-gloom, “I must apologise for not giving you more light, but--for some UNEARTHLY reason or other--only one of those gas jets will ever burn. Odd is it not?” And as her eyes met mine, I walked to the fire and burst out laughing. She was disarmed! Could any one laugh who was afraid of ghosts? She speedily, VERY speedily left me and once again I underwent it ALL. Suspense--horror--prostration. I think I suffered more this third night than on either of the other two. Yet, long before morning I had recovered from the shock.