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37 
[Written specially for the Ladies’ Floral Cabinet.] 
By Augusta Larned. 
CHAPTER VI. 
“ A mad world, my masters.” 
Bradley Halcourt removed the large meerschaum he was 
smoking with the air of deliberation that belonged to him, 
and bent his hazel eyes, gleaming with covert amusement, 
on old Nanna, who stood before him, arms akimbo, and 
with a puzzled, mysterious expression on her broad black 
face. 
“ A ghost, Nanna 1” said he, smiling, and showing his 
beautiful teeth. “Now that is delightful; I always 
thought the old Hall ought to have a ghost to make it com¬ 
plete. And you say you have actually seen one ?” 
“ ’Pears like it was a spook shore enuf, honey; and I 
seed it plain as day,” returned old Nanna, in an awe-struck 
whisper. 
“Perhaps Steeuie has been playing a trick on you,” 
Bradley suggested. 
“ Dat dar chile is up to de debble’s shindies,” said 
Nanna, shaking her head, “ but he couldn’t, nohow some- 
dever, make hisself six foot tall, wid a face as white as a 
pocket handkerchef. 
“ And it wasn’t the old judge?” said he, trying another 
tack. 
“ What fore, honey, should de ole mass’r come snootin’ 
back from t’oder world ’cept dar was priests gettin’ into de 
house, or he smelt de dishes dat new fangle cook makes in 
de kitchen ? Ef de ole mass’r was to come, shore’s you 
live, he’d cough and knock on de flore wid his stick.” 
“Well, Nanna, I’ll watch to-night for your ghost, and 
I’ll take my uncle’s old musket and see if I can’t bring 
him down.” 
“ Shoot, honey! (in a solemn whisper) dem spooks 
don’t mine bullets; dey go right frew without makin’ nary 
hole; an’ if you git de spookses ill will, ’pears like dey 
might trick us all.” 
“Never fear,” said Bradley, laughing gaily, “if lean 
lodge a bullet in the ghost, he will not trouble you again. 
But tell me, Nanna, has any one seen it.except yourself?’’ 
“ Miss Jinny,” said the old woman, in the same awsome 
whisper. “ Lass night, jess afore I locked de house, dat 
furriu gal, as little miss dotes on like de apple ob her eye, 
she bust in all white, and trembly and shaky like a ole hen 
afeard for its chicks; an’ ’pears like she wouldn’t ’fess 
what was de matter, and when I chafe and chafe her cold 
han’s she jess bust out acryin’. I’se shore she seed de 
spook, honey.” 
“Very well,” said Bradley, who had become grave and 
watchful while Nanna was speaking, “ if Miss Duval has 
seen the ghost I can find out all about it, for here she 
comes with my cousin.” 
Old Nanna went off through the trees, and Winnie and 
her friend, with Hector bounding on before them, came 
down the oak avenue. The day was cool and windy, with 
scuds of dark and silvery clouds moving rapidly across the 
sky, and opening at moments to emit floods of brilliant 
light. Gusts from the clear, cold west swept along, fit¬ 
fully laden with “ the flying gold of the woodland.” 
Winnie was in the full radiance and glow of health. She 
had written her business letters, and attended to the 
upholsterers who were refurbishing the drawing-room. 
She had given orders to restock the greenhouse with rare 
plants, and had been to the stable to inspect her new car¬ 
riage horses, and had directed the men who were cleaning 
the grounds. All the knowledge she needed for practical 
affairs seemed to lie at the tips of her fingers. 
The day was cool, and she was dressed in a long cloak 
edged with fur, and a laige black hat with a floating 
plume. Virginie, who was wrapped in a gray shawl, 
looked pale and fragile beside her brilliant friend. Bradley 
had remarked wdh pain, almost with resentment, that ever 
since his arrival at the Hall, Virginie had avoided him, 
appearing to dread a chance encounter, and to keep well 
out of the way when there was the least likelihood of their 
being left alone together. The sense of trust in him, and 
dependence upon him, which she had once expressed in 
such a sweet, almost childlike, fashion, had now vanished, 
and he would have felt that he had a right to be more than 
hurt, if, as he furtively watched her, the conviction that 
she was suffering from some secret cause had not forced 
itself upon his mind. But if she was in trouble, to whom 
ought she so naturally to turn for help as to himself? He 
was vexed with her want of frankness when he had tried 
to prove her friend, and yet he would have been the last 
lo claim anything on that ground. He did not want grati¬ 
tude. What did he want ? Pah! he was not in love. As 
he went about the woods and fields visiting the old 
familiar spots, he resolved to accept his fate, reserving the 
privilege of railing at the world afterwards. But his mind 
was mainly busy with wondering why Virginie avoided 
him, and what was the meaning of her agitation on the 
day of his arrival. He would not distrust her. She was 
as ingenuous and simple-hearted as a child; but some dark 
secret had come to cloud her young life, and kill her faith 
in him. 
With Winnifred, things had gone more smoothly. There 
was always plenty of spi y conversation and sparring be¬ 
tween the cousins while Virginie sat by tongue-tied; or, 
if appealed to, answered with a mere monosyllable, as if 
determined to reduce herself to the position of a formal 
companion to the young heiress. 
Mr. Swayne was absent much of the time, attending to 
the affairs of the school at the mine, and of his new position 
as minister-at-large. He came to the Hall at night to 
sleep, and was occasionally present at meals. It was 
impossible for him to wholly conceal the almost worshipful 
deference with which he met Winnifred’s slightest look or 
word. Toward Bradley, his manner was cold, stiff, and 
formally polite. Bradley, who unconsciously studied the 
different members of this group with close attention, had 
remarked Mr. Swayne’s treatment of Virginie. He seemed 
to completely ignore her. Had not his own preoccupation 
prevented him from penetrating Edgar Swayne’s secret, he 
would have discovered that where Winnifred was no other 
woman counted for anything in the young parson’s eyes. 
Half falling into the opposite mistake, it had flashed upon 
him once or twice that the young man’s apparent indiffer¬ 
ence to Virginie might be assumed to cover feelings of 
quite another nature. 
Now, as the two girls came down the avenue together, 
Bradley determined to make Virginie look him fairly in 
the face. “ Miss Duval ?” said he, advancing to meet them. 
Virginie gave a little start as she heard her name called, 
and then the blue eyes were raised with a half shy, half 
timid look of inquiry, and a faint flush overspread her face. 
“ Old Nanna has just been out to confide to me the start¬ 
ling fact that you have seen a ghost. Now, as I have the 
greatest desire to learn the secrets of the other world, I 
beg that you will tell me all about your adventure. The 
old nurse claims to have seen the apparition herself in the 
form of a tall man, with a very pale face.” 
Virginie’s cheek blanched, and an involuntary shudder 
ran through her. 
“Don’t you see how nervous you have made her by the 
bare suggestion ?” said Winnie. “ Nanna has her head 
stuffed full of superstitious notions about spooks. She has 
all the credulousness of the negro race, and has been see¬ 
ing spirits ever since I can remember.” 
“I am not at all sure Miss Duval has not seen some¬ 
thing uncanny,” returned Bradley, pitilessly determined to 
make Virginie speak and look at him again. “Her lips 
are quite pale, and they s y that is always a sign.” 
“ I have never seen such things,” said Virginie in a low j 
pained voice, with a deeply serious air. “I have often 
prayed if such things are possible, that my loved ones 
would speak to me, or give some sign, but they are silent 
to my cries and my tears. Last night I was restless, I 
could not sleep, so I stole down into the grounds, and 
when Nanna let me in I was perhaps shaking from cold." 
“ If you could not sleep, why did you not come to my 
room?” said Winnie, reproachfully. “What was I made 
strong for, if not to comfort you, Mousie. She has been ill 
of late, (turning to Bradley) and it all comes from nursing 
that Einster boy, Jake, who is down with the measles, and 
sitting in a stuffy little room where the air is perfectly 
choking, to tell the freckled-faced, red-headed lad stories 
and give him cooling drinks; and now, though she is far 
from well, she is obstinately bent in going again.” 
“Yes, dear madamoiselle, do let me go. The poor 
mother has so much to do for her little ones she cannot sit 
by the lad’s bedside. He will be wishing for me.” She 
drew her hand away from Winnie’s with a little, gentle 
violence, and giving her a fond look of farewell, glided 
down toward the lake. 
“ What a dear, adorable creature she is,” said Winnie, 
standing still in the road, and looking alter her with the 
deep glow of a smile in her eyes. “I have never been so 
much attached to any one before, and I am very grateful 
to you, Bradley, for sending Virginie to me.” 
“She does not seem a very lively companion,” said 
Bradley, dryly, as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe. 
“I thought her quite a different sort of person when I 
knew her on the ship.” 
“ I didn’t want a lively companion,” returned Winnie 
with some heat; “ I wanted some one to—to love.” And 
the next moment she was ashamed and vexed with herself 
for having gushed over, and made a confession to Bradley 
that sounded sentimental end ridiculous in her own ears. 
She expected a sarcastic reply, but he only glanced at her 
from under his eyelids and said, “ Oh, indeed!” 
This seemed to Winnie a very unpromising prelude to 
the confidential talk with her cousin, as she had planned 
to have that very day; but her will was predominant, and 
though she felt a husky, half-choking sensation in her 
throat, she put it down, and said in her coldest and most 
assured t< nes : “Bradley, would you mind walking a little 
way with me? I have not yet told you anything about 
poor father.” 
“ If the crisis has come, curse my fate,” thought Bradley 
to himself. He would have been glad to whistle, but he 
only turned toward her with cold politeness, and said, 
“ I am entirely at your service, Winnifred.” 
“ Well, let us move on,” said she with alacrity, feeling 
that the task she had sot herself was a very hard and dis¬ 
agreeable one. It would be easier to get through it 
creditably if she could walk herself into a glow of exer¬ 
cise ; then, perhaps, she might take the leap before her in 
a handsome and spirited manner. 
Bradley removed his meerschaum, and stole a furtive 
glance at her face. He had not studied his cousin as she 
deserved since he had come back to Halcourt, and found 
her a full grown, beautiful woman. He acknowledged 
secretly that she was handsomer than he had at first 
thought, and carried herself regally. An intense magnetic 
life seemed to tingle down to her finger tips. How had 
such a vivid creature sprung from the union of that bundle 
of legal lore and malignity—the old judge—with his half 
moribund aunt ? It occurred to Bradley that there were 
men in the world who would worship the ground on which 
this superb girl trod, and though she might be a wayward 
creature, capricious, and undisciplined and crude, she was 
certainly magnificent. There must be a great power of 
loving in her. Such richness of coloring is never given to 
the unimpassioned. These thoughts passed through his 
mind in the flash of an eye, and then Winnie had begun 
speaking in rather a higher key than usual, which be¬ 
tokened some suppressed inward excitement. She was 
walking on the moss-grown border of the road where her 
dress made a slight rustling among the fallen leaves. 
“I have not yet had an opportunity to speak to you, 
Bradley, about poor father's wishes and feelings concerning 
you, which he expressed to me very strongly just before 
he died.” 
“ Indeed,” said Bradley, in a cold tone of surprise, “ I was 
not aware that the Judge had any wishes or feelings con¬ 
nected with me except a feeling of disapproval—disgust, 
perhaps, for the way I have, thus far, lounged through 
life.” 
Winnie was nettled by the tone of this reply, which gave 
her no help or reassurance, but she found relief in a little 
outburst of unreasonable resentment. “My father was a 
peculiar man. Of course I know there was never any love 
between him and some members of the family. You may 
have done him great injustice, and I will not hear one word 
against him, for he was always good to me, and I am bound 
