She led them to the north gallery and, pausing at the door, said merrily, “The ghost--or ghosts rather, for there were two--which frightened Patty were Sir Jasper and myself, meeting to discuss certain important matters which concerned Mr. Treherne. If you want to see spirits we will play phantom for you, and convince you of our power.” “Good, let us go and have a ghostly dance, as a proper finale of our revel,” answered Rose as they flocked into the long hall. At that moment the great clock struck twelve, and all paused to bid the old year adieu. Sir Jasper was the first to speak, for, angry with Mrs. Snowdon, yet thankful to her for making a jest to others of what had been earnest to him, he desired to hide his chagrin under a gay manner; and taking Rose around the waist was about to waltz away as she proposed, saying cheerily, “'Come one and all, and dance the new year in,'” when a cry from Octavia arrested him, and turning he saw her stand, pale and trembling, pointing to the far end of the hall. Eight narrow Gothic windows pierced either wall of the north gallery. A full moon sent her silvery light strongly in upon the eastern side, making broad bars of brightness across the floor. No fires burned there now, and wherever the moonlight did not fall deep shadows lay. As Octavia cried out, all looked, and all distinctly saw a tall, dark figure moving noiselessly across the second bar of light far down the hall. “Is it some jest of yours?” asked Sir Jasper of Mrs. Snowdon, as the form vanished in the shadow. “No, upon my honor, I know nothing of it! I only meant to relieve Octavia's superstitious fears by showing her our pranks” was the whispered reply as Mrs. Snowdon's cheek paled, and she drew nearer to Jasper. “Who is there?” called Treherne in a commanding tone. No answer, but a faint, cold breath of air seemed to sigh along the arched roof and die away as the dark figure crossed the third streak of moonlight. A strange awe fell upon them all, and no one spoke, but stood watching for the appearance of the shape. Nearer and nearer it came, with soundless steps, and as it reached the sixth window its outlines were distinctly visible. A tall, wasted figure, all in black, with a rosary hanging from the girdle, and a dark beard half concealing the face. “The Abbot's ghost, and very well got up,” said Annon, trying to laugh but failing decidedly, for again the cold breath swept over them, causing a general shudder. “Hush!” whispered Treherne, drawing Octavia to his side with a protecting gesture.