"What did I do at your rooms last night? Was I queer at all? I had intended calling on you that day, to tell you that Edna and I were going to be married April 1st, and to get you for my best man. _Did_ I tell you? Because, if not, I do now. The fact is, you see, I had been reading over some curious old family documents (I think I spoke to you about them), and then I went up to Edna's and frightened her half to death with telling her ghost stories about the locket I'd given her as a betrothal gift (a queer little thing it is. Did I ever mention it to you?) Well, going home I met young De Quincey, and he proposed--he's always up to some devilry or other--he proposed doing something which I shall never do again; I was a fool to try it at all, but I had no notion how it would act. I'm afraid I may have annoyed you. I have an idea I upset your ink-bottle, and that I got it into my head that the ghost story I had been telling Edna was true. How was it? I know I felt deathly sick the next morning; I'm not certain whether it was the port-wine I drank, or that confounded hasheesh that I took with young De Quincey. I promised Edna I'd never take any more. Well, you won't object to being my best man, will you? "J. C." So far from explaining the essential mystery--the Ghostly Rival--this letter of John's only makes it, to my mind, more inscrutable than ever. Talk about coincidences! For my part, I prefer to believe in ghosts. MRS. GAINSBOROUGH'S DIAMONDS. I. "Superb! I don't know when I have seen finer, Tom, really!" "Ah!" said Tom, complacently handling his left whisker. "And," he added, after a moment or two, "and thereby hangs a tale!" It was after dinner--after one of Tom Gainsborough's snug, inimitable little dinners; only we three--Tom, his wife, and myself: and a couple of negro attendants, as well trained and less overpowering than the best of the native English stock; and that charming dining-room, just big enough, just cool enough, soft-carpeted, clear-walled, and the steady white radiance of the argand burners descending upon the damask tablecloth, crowned with fruits and flowers; and an agreeable shadow over the rest of the room, so that those sable servitors could perform their noiseless evolutions unseen; and a pervading sense of unconscious good-breeding and unobtrusive wealth; and----but I will not speak of the china; I will not descant upon Tom's wines; I don't wish to make other people envious. Only it was all inexpressibly good, from fascinating Mrs. Gainsborough and her diamonds, down.