That was more than half a century ago; and now David Meudon was the guest of this neglected chamber. He was in a joyous mood. A man more tenacious of impressions could not have thrown off so easily the irritation caused by the meeting with Harold Leighton in the garden. The elder man's suspicions would have poisoned whatever possibility there might be of immediate enjoyment. The presence of Una, however, her unqualified acceptance of him, her uncle's suddenly changed attitude, effectually dulled David's resentment. Leighton had agreed, apparently, to the plan for an early wedding, and had even proposed that the married couple should live at Stoneleigh. In spite of David's great wealth, neither he nor his immediate ancestors had been identified with a locality peculiarly their own; they had never had a family home. With Una, on the contrary, the last of the Leightons, the ancestral tie that roots itself under some particular hearthstone was especially strong. She was pleased, therefore, with the offer that promised to make Stoneleigh hers--and so, in the main, was David. He liked the old house; its history appealed to his imagination. He stood somewhat in awe, it is true, of its present owner, and the prospect of living with him did not promise unalloyed happiness. But there was something about Harold Leighton, a suggestion of mystery, that went well with this ancient place, and completely satisfied David. He laughed at the Stoneleigh traditions; but when Leighton proposed spending the evening in the oratory he gladly assented. David had never been in this part of the house, although he had often wanted to explore its possible mysteries. The opportunity to do this had not come until now. "Yes, there are ghosts here," Harold Leighton replied to the young man's jesting query as he, David and Una entered the great bare room together. "Then you believe in ghosts?" "Of course Uncle Harold believes in them," exclaimed Una. "I believe in them, and so do you." "That depends. Show me one and I might." "Well," commented Leighton; "this is the ghost room, and here we are. Perhaps your skepticism will find something to try its teeth on. In honor of St. Maur we ought to have a demonstration." "Splendid!" laughed David. "But you don't mean it. People never mean what they say when they talk approvingly of ghosts. You are known for a skeptic yourself, Mr. Leighton. You accept nothing that has not passed muster with science." "There may be a science of ghosts," retorted the savant. "Science is not limited to any department of human knowledge. A scientific theory is based on a collection of facts. How do you know I have not made a collection of ghost-facts?" "And so have a new theory of ghosts to offer!" "You don't really think those old monks come back, uncle?" objected Una. "Oh, I'm not going to tell the secrets of my laboratory so easily--and to such a pair of tyros," was the evasive answer.