"Yes, I suppose you _would_ call it that," she responded, crossing over to him and looking down at the thing in question. "Though, really, why Father has it here I cannot imagine. Its history is certainly not a credit to the line. For it belonged to the very girl I was going to tell you about. It belonged to the Family Ghost. Here is the story. The villagers believe it to this day, and couldn't be persuaded to enter the Castle grounds at night upon any pretext whatever. But of course the educated folk don't. Early in the sixteenth century a wild head of the Macduggan clan abducted a young--and I imagine beautiful--peasant-girl when she was sitting at her wheel, spinning, and ran away with her--wheel and all--and brought her here, so legend says, to this very room. The girl, whose name, I believe, was Dhurea, or something like that, stabbed herself with the sharp-pointed spindle of the wheel, and in doing so laid a curse upon the Macduggan clan. She--she was going to have a child, Mr. Deland, and as she was dying, she swore that in every generation a Duggan should die a violent death, and that the sound of her spinning wheel should predict the moment when death was near." "Oho!" said Cleek, in two different tones. "That differs a good deal from the story Mr. Fairnish tells. There was a child, I understood, and this child was stolen by the grandparents. That's not correct, then?" "There are various interpretations of the legend. No one knows the truth--only that she killed herself and cursed the family in that unpleasant manner." "And has the curse come true?" For a moment Miss Duggan hesitated. Then she sent startled eyes up into his face. There was the look of a dog at bay in them. "I don't believe the story, Mr. Deland! I don't believe a _word_ of it, for such things cannot possibly be, in this civilized country," she answered in a scared tone. "And yet--ever since that day, one at least of each generation has died unnaturally. And now--in _this_ generation there is only Father and Ross.... This peasant-girl is supposed to haunt our dear Castle, and after midnight to stalk the place over, looking for the man who dishonoured her and who has been dead these many generations past." "H'm! I see. And so, naturally, she cannot find him. A weird story, and more pleasant in the daylight than in the dark. And this is the lady's spinning wheel, I take it? Your father has it by his writing-table, I see. Rather in the way, isn't it?" "It used to stand over there, in the corner, but Paula declared that it was too dark there, and that it did not show to its full beauty. So she moved it. Father lets her do whatever she wishes. And of course it does show better there, by the window, doesn't it? And as it's Father's _left_ hand that comes beside it, Mr. Deland, I don't really see that it much matters."