“Idoubtnotyoudeserveit。”repliedhisnewfriend，
good-naturedly；“butprayproceed。”
“Well，sir，beingnearlyeighteenyearsold，andwell-grown，asyou
see。”continuedRobin，drawinghimselfuptohisfullheight，“I
thoughtithightimetobegintheworld。Somymotherandsisterput
meinhandsometrim，andmyfathergavemehalftheremnantofhis
lastyear’ssalary，andfivedaysagoIstartedforthisplace，topay
themajoravisit。But，wouldyoubelieveit，sir！Icrossedtheferry
alittleafterdark，andhaveyetfoundnobodythatwouldshowme
thewaytohisdwelling-only，anhourortwosince，Iwastoldto
waithere，andMajorMolineuxwouldpassby。”
“Canyoudescribethemanwhotoldyouthis？”inquiredthe
gentleman。
“O，hewasaveryill-favoredfellow，sir。”repliedRobin，“with
twogreatbumpsonhisforehead，ahooknose，fieryeyes-and，what
struckmeasthestrangest，hisfacewasoftwodifferentcolors。Do
youhappentoknowsuchaman，sir！”
“Notintimately。”answeredthestranger，“butIchancedtomeethim
alittletimeprevioustoyourstoppingme。Ibelieveyoumaytrust
hisword，andthatthemajorwillveryshortlypassthroughthis
street。Inthemeantime，asIhaveasingularcuriositytowitness
yourmeeting，Iwillsitdownhereuponthesteps，andbearyou
company。”
Heseatedhimselfaccordingly，andsoonengagedhiscompanionin
animateddiscourse。Itwasbutofbriefcontinuance，however，fora
noiseofshouting，whichbadlongbeenremotelyaudible，drewso
muchnearerthatRobininquireditscause。
“Whatmaybethemeaningofthisuproar？”askedhe。“Truly，ifyour
townbealwaysasnoisy，Ishallfindlittlesleep，whileIaman
inhabitant。”
“Why，indeed，friendRobin，theredoappeartobethreeorfour
riotousfellowsabroadtonight。”repliedthegentleman。“Youmust
notexpectallthestillnessofyournativewoods，hereinour
streets。Butthewatchwillshortlybeattheheelsoftheselads，
and-“
“Ay，andsettheminthestocksbypeepofday。”interruptedRobin，
recollectinghisownencounterwiththedrowsylantern-bearer。“But，
dearsir，ifImaytrustmyears，anarmyofwatchmenwouldnevermake
headagainstsuchamultitudeofrioters。Therewereatleasta
thousandvoiceswentuptomakethatoneshout。”
“Maynotamanhaveseveralvoices，Robin，aswellastwo
complexions？”saidhisfriend。
“Perhapsamanmay；butHeavenforbidthatawomanshould！”
respondedtheshrewdyouth，thinkingoftheseductivetonesofthe
major’shousekeeper。
Thesoundsofatrumpetinsomeneighboringstreetnowbecameso
evidentandcontinual，thatRobin’scuriositywasstronglyexcited。In
additiontotheshouts，heheardfrequentburstsfrommanyinstruments
ofdiscord，andawildandconfusedlaughterfilledupthe
intervals。Robinrosefromthesteps，andlookedwistfullytowardsa
pointwhitherseveralpeopleseemedtobehastening。
“Surelysomeprodigiousmerry-makingisgoingon。”exclaimedhe。“I
havelaughedverylittlesinceIlefthome，sir，andshouldbesorry
toloseanopportunity。Shallwesteproundthecornerbythatdarkish
house，andtakeourshareofthefun？”
“Sitdownagain，sitdown，goodRobin。”repliedthegentleman，
layinghishandontheskirtofthegraycoat。“Youforgetthatwe
mustwaithereforyourkinsman；andthereisreasontobelievethat
hewillpassby，inthecourseofaveryfewmoments。”
Thenearapproachoftheuproarhadnowdisturbedtheneighborhood；
windowsflewopenonallsides；andmanyheads，intheattireofthe
pillow，andconfusedbysleepsuddenlybroken，wereprotrudedtothe
gazeofwhoeverhadleisuretoobservethem。Eagervoiceshailed
eachotherfromhousetohouse，alldemandingtheexplanation，which
notasoulcouldgive。Half-dressedmenhurriedtowardstheunknown
commotion，stumblingastheywentoverthestonesteps，thatthrust
themselvesintothenarrowfoot-walk。Theshouts，thelaughter，and
thetunelessbray，theantipodesofmusic，cameonwardswith
increasingdin，tillscatteredindividuals，andthendenserbodies，
begantoappearroundacorneratthedistanceofahundredyards。
“Willyourecognizeyourkinsman，ifhepassesinthiscrowd？”
inquiredthegentleman。
“Indeed，Ican’twarrantit，sir；butI’lltakemystandhere，
andkeepabrightlook-out。”answeredRobin，descendingtotheouter
edgeofthepavement。
Amightystreamofpeoplenowemptiedintothestreet，andcame
rollingslowlytowardsthechurch。Asinglehorsemanwheeledthe
cornerinthemidstofthem，andclosebehindhimcameabandof
fearfulwind-instruments，sendingforthafresherdiscord，nowthatno
interveningbuildingskeptitfromtheear。Thenaredderlight
disturbedthemoonbeams，andadensemultitudeoftorchesshone
alongthestreet，concealing，bytheirglare，whateverobjectthey
illuminated。Thesinglehorseman，cladinamilitarydress，and
bearingadrawnsword，rodeonwardastheleader，and，byhisfierce
andvariegatedcountenance，appearedlikewarpersonified：thered
ofonecheekwasanemblemoffireandsword；theblacknessofthe
otherbetokenedthemourningthatattendsthem。Inhistrainwerewild
figuresintheIndiandress，andmanyfantasticshapeswithouta
model，givingthewholemarchavisionaryair，asifadreamhad
brokenforthfromsomefeverishbrain，andweresweepingvisibly
throughthemidnightstreets。Amassofpeople，inactive，exceptas
applaudingspectators，hemmedtheprocessionin；andseveralwomenran
alongtheside-walk，piercingtheconfusionofheaviersoundswith
theirshrillvoicesofmirthorterror。
“Thedouble-facedfellowhashiseyeuponme。”mutteredRobin，with
anindefinitebutanuncomfortableideathathewashimselftobear
apartinthepageantry。
Theleaderturnedhimselfinthesaddle，andfixedhisglance
fulluponthecountryyouth，asthesteedwentslowlyby。WhenRobin
hadfreedhiseyesfromthosefieryones，themusicianswerepassing
beforehim，andthetorcheswerecloseathand；buttheunsteady
brightnessofthelatterformedaveilwhichhecouldnotpenetrate。
Therattlingofwheelsoverthestonessometimesfounditswayto
hisear，andconfusedtracesofahumanformappearedatintervals，
andthenmeltedintothevividlight。Amomentmore，andtheleader
thunderedacommandtohalt：thetrumpetsvomitedahorridbreath，and
thenheldtheirpeace；theshoutsandlaughterofthepeopledied
away，andthereremainedonlyauniversalhum，alliedtosilence。
RightbeforeRobin’seyeswasanuncoveredcart。Therethetorches
blazedthebrightest，therethemoonshoneoutlikeday，andthere，in
tar-and-featherydignity，sathiskinsmanMajorMolineux！
Hewasanelderlyman，oflargeandmajesticperson，andstrong，
squarefeatures，betokeningasteadysoul；butsteadyasitwas，his
enemieshadfoundmeanstoshakeit。Hisfacewaspaleasdeath，and
farmoreghastly；thebroadforeheadwascontractedinhisagony，so
thathiseyebrowsformedonegrizzledline；hiseyeswereredand
wild，andthefoamhungwhiteuponhisquiveringlip。Hiswhole
framewasagitatedbyaquickandcontinualtremor，whichhispride
strovetoquell，eveninthosecircumstancesofoverwhelming
humiliation。Butperhapsthebitterestpangofallwaswhenhiseyes
metthoseofRobin；forheevidentlyknewhimontheinstant，asthe
youthstoodwitnessingthefouldisgraceofaheadgrowngrayin
honor。Theystaredateachotherinsilence，andRobin’sknees
shook，andhishairbristled，withamixtureofpityandterror。Soon，
however，abewilderingexcitementbegantoseizeuponhismind；the
precedingadventuresofthenight，theunexpectedappearanceofthe
crowd，thetorches，theconfuseddinandthehushthatfollowed，the
spectreofhiskinsmanreviledbythatgreatmultitude-allthis，and，
morethanall，aperceptionoftremendousridiculeinthewholescene，
affectedhimwithasortofmentalinebriety。Atthatmomentavoice
ofsluggishmerrimentsalutedRobin’sears；heturnedinstinctively，
andjustbehindthecornerofthechurchstoodthelantern-bearer，
rubbinghiseyes，anddrowsilyenjoyingthelad’samazement。Thenhe
heardapealoflaughterliketheringingofsilverybells；awoman
twitchedhisarm，asaucyeyemethis，andhesawtheladyofthe
scarletpetticoat。Asharp，drycachinnationappealedtohismemory，
and，standingontiptoeinthecrowd，withhiswhiteapronoverhis
head，hebeheldthecourteouslittleinnkeeper。Andlastly，there
sailedovertheheadsofthemultitudeagreat，broadlaugh，brokenin
themidstbytwosepulchralhems；thus，“Haw，haw，haw-hem，hem-haw，
haw，haw，haw！”
Thesoundproceededfromthebalconyoftheoppositeedifice，and
thitherRobinturnedhiseyes。InfrontoftheGothicwindowstoodthe
oldcitizen，wrappedinawidegown，hisgrayperiwigexchangedfor
anight-cap，whichwasthrustbackfromhisforehead，andhissilk
stockingshangingabouthislegs。Hesupportedhimselfonhispolished
caneinafitofconvulsivemerriment，whichmanifesteditselfon
hissolemnoldfeatureslikeafunnyinscriptiononatomb-stone。Then
Robinseemedtohearthevoicesofthebarbers，oftheguestsofthe
inn，andofallwhohadmadesportofhimthatnight。Thecontagion
wasspreadingamongthemultitude，when，allatonce，itseizedupon
Robin，andhesentforthashoutoflaughterthatechoedthroughthe
street-everymanshookhissides，everymanemptiedhislungs，but
Robin’sshoutwastheloudestthere。Thecloud-spiritspeepedfrom
theirsilveryislands，asthecongregatedmirthwentroaringupthe
sky！TheManintheMoonheardthefarbellow；“Oh。”quothhe，“the
oldearthisfrolicksometonight！”
Whentherewasamomentarycalminthattempestuousseaofsound，
theleadergavethesign，theprocessionresumeditsmarch。Onthey
went，likefiendsthatthronginmockeryaroundsomedeadpotentate，
mightynomore，butmajesticstillinhisagony。Ontheywent，in
counterfeitedpomp，insenselessuproar，infrenziedmerriment，
tramplingallonanoldman’sheart。Onsweptthetumult，andlefta
silentstreetbehind。
“Well，Robin，areyoudreaming？”inquiredthegentleman，layinghis
handontheyouth’sshoulder。
Robinstarted，andwithdrewhisarmfromthestoneposttowhich
hehadinstinctivelyclung，asthelivingstreamrolledbyhim。His
cheekwassomewhatpaleandhiseyenotquiteaslivelyasinthe
earlierpartoftheevening。
“Willyoubekindenoughtoshowmethewaytotheferry？”saidhe，
afteramoment’spause。
“Youhave，then，adoptedanewsubjectofinquiry？”observedhis
companion，withasmile。
“Why，yes，sir。”repliedRobin，ratherdryly。“Thankstoyou，and
tomyotherfriends，Ihaveatlastmetmykinsman，andhewillscarce
desiretoseemyfaceagain。Ibegintogrowwearyofatownlife，
sir。Willyoushowmethewaytotheferry？”
“No，mygoodfriendRobin-nottonight，atleast。”saidthe
gentleman。“Somefewdayshence，ifyouwishit，Iwillspeedyouon
yourjourney。Or，ifyouprefertoremainwithus，perhaps，asyouare
ashrewdyouth，youmayriseintheworldwithoutthehelpofyour
kinsman，MajorMolineux。”
byNathanielHawthorne
THEHOURHADCOME-thehourofdefeatandhumiliation-whenSir
WilliamHowewastopassoverthethresholdoftheProvinceHouse，and
embark，withnosuchtriumphalceremoniesasheoncepromisedhimself，
onboardtheBritishfleet。Hebadehisservantsandmilitary
attendantsgobeforehim，andlingeredamomentinthelonelinessof
themansion，toquellthefierceemotionsthatstruggledinhis
bosomaswithadeaththrob。Preferable，then，wouldhehavedeemed
hisfate，hadawarrior’sdeathlefthimaclaimtothenarrow
territoryofagravewithinthesoilwhichtheKinghadgivenhimto
defend。Withanominousperceptionthat，ashisdepartingfootsteps
echoedadownthestaircase，theswayofBritainwaspassingforever
fromNewEngland，hesmotehisclinchedhandonhisbrow，andcursed
thedestinythathadflungtheshameofadismemberedempireuponhim。
“WouldtoGod。”criedhe，hardlyrepressinghistearsofrage，
“thattherebelswereevennowatthedoorstep！Ablood-stainuponthe
floorshouldthenbeartestimonythatthelastBritishrulerwas
faithfultohistrust。”
Thetremulousvoiceofawomanrepliedtohisexclamation。
“Heaven’scauseandtheKing’sareone。”itsaid。“Goforth，Sir
WilliamHowe，andtrustinHeaventobringbackaRoyalGovernorin
triumph。”
Subduing，atonce，thepassiontowhichhehadyieldedonlyin
thefaiththatitwasunwitnessed，SirWilliamHowebecameconscious
thatanagedwoman，leaningonagold-headedstaff，wasstanding
betwixthimandthedoor。ItwasoldEstherDudley，whohaddwelt
almostimmemorialyearsinthismansion，untilherpresenceseemed
asinseparablefromitastherecollectionsofitshistory。Shewas
thedaughterofanancientandonceeminentfamily，whichhadfallen
intopovertyanddecay，andleftitslastdescendantnoresource
savethebountyoftheKing，noranyshelterexceptwithinthewalls
oftheProvinceHouse。Anofficeinthehousehold，withmerelynominal
duties，hadbeenassignedtoherasapretextforthepaymentofa
smallpension，thegreaterpartofwhichsheexpendedinadorning
herselfwithanantiquemagnificenceofattire。TheclaimsofEsther
Dudley’sgentlebloodwereacknowledgedbyallthesuccessive
Governors；andtheytreatedherwiththepunctiliouscourtesywhichit
washerfoibletodemand，notalwayswithsuccess，fromaneglectful
world。Theonlyactualsharewhichsheassumedinthebusinessof
themansionwastoglidethroughitspassagesandpublicchambers，
lateatnight，toseethattheservantshaddroppednofirefromtheir
flaringtorches，norleftemberscracklingandblazingonthehearths。
Perhapsitwasthisinvariablecustomofwalkingherroundsinthe
hushofmidnightthatcausedthesuperstitionofthetimestoinvest
theoldwomanwithattributesofaweandmystery；fablingthatshehad
enteredtheportaloftheProvinceHouse，noneknewwhence，inthe
trainofthefirstRoyalGovernor，andthatitwasherfatetodwell
theretillthelastshouldhavedeparted。ButSirWilliamHowe，if
heeverheardthislegend，hadforgottenit。
“MistressDudley，whyareyouloiteringhere？”askedhe，with
someseverityoftone。“Itismypleasuretobethelastinthis
mansionoftheKing。”
“Notso，ifitpleaseyourExcellency。”answeredthe
time-strickenwoman。“Thisroofhasshelteredmelong。Iwillnotpass
fromituntiltheybearmetothetombofmyforefathers。Whatother
shelteristhereforoldEstherDudley，savetheProvinceHouseorthe
grave？”
“NowHeavenforgiveme！”saidSirWilliamHowetohimself。“Iwas
abouttoleavethiswretchedoldcreaturetostarveorbeg。Takethis，
goodMistressDudley。”headded，puttingapurseintoherhands。“King
George’sheadonthesegoldenguineasissterlingyet，andwill
continueso，Iwarrantyou，evenshouldtherebelscrownJohn
Hancocktheirking。Thatpursewillbuyabettershelterthanthe
ProvinceHousecannowafford。”
“Whiletheburdenofliferemainsuponme，Iwillhavenoother
shelterthanthisroof。”persistedEstherDudley，strikingherstaff
uponthefloorwithagesturethatexpressedimmovableresolve。“And
whenyourExcellencyreturnsintriumph，Iwilltotterintothe
porchtowelcomeyou。”
“Mypooroldfriend！”answeredtheBritishGeneral-andallhis
manlyandmartialpridecouldnolongerrestrainagushofbitter
tears。“Thisisanevilhourforyouandme。TheProvincewhichthe
Kingintrustedtomychargeislost。Igohenceinmisfortune-
perchanceindisgrace-toreturnnomore。Andyou，whosepresentbeing
isincorporatedwiththepast-whohaveseenGovernorafter
Governor，instatelypageantry，ascendthesesteps-whosewholelife
hasbeenanobservanceofmajesticceremonies，andaworshipofthe
King-howwillyouendurethechange？Comewithus！Bidfarewellto
alandthathasshakenoffitsallegiance，andlivestillundera
royalgovernment，atHalifax。”
“Never，never！”saidthepertinaciousolddame。“HerewillIabide；
andKingGeorgeshallstillhaveonetruesubjectinhisdisloyal
Province。”
“Beshrewtheoldfool！”mutteredSirWilliamHowe，growing
impatientofherobstinacy，andashamedoftheemotionintowhichhe
hadbeenbetrayed。“Sheistheverymoralofold-fashioned
prejudice，andcouldexistnowherebutinthismustyedifice。Well，
then，MistressDudley，sinceyouwillneedstarry，IgivetheProvince
Houseinchargetoyou。Takethiskey，andkeepitsafeuntil
myself，orsomeotherRoyalGovernor，shalldemanditofyou。”
Smilingbitterlyathimselfandher，hetooktheheavykeyofthe
ProvinceHouse，anddeliveringitintotheoldlady’shands，drew
hiscloakaroundhimfordeparture。AstheGeneralglancedbackat
EstherDudley’santiquefigure，hedeemedherwellfittedforsucha
charge，asbeingsoperfectarepresentativeofthedecayedpast-of
anagegoneby，withitsmanners，opinions，faithandfeelings，all
fallenintooblivionorscorn-ofwhathadoncebeenareality，but
wasnowmerelyavisionoffadedmagnificence。ThenSirWilliamHowe
strodeforth，smitinghisclinchedhandstogether，inthefierce
anguishofhisspirit；andoldEstherDudleywaslefttokeepwatchin
thelonelyProvinceHouse，dwellingtherewithmemory；andifHope
everseemedtoflitaroundher，stillwasitMemoryindisguise。
Thetotalchangeofaffairsthatensuedonthedepartureofthe
Britishtroopsdidnotdrivethevenerableladyfromherstronghold。
Therewasnot，formanyyearsafterwards，aGovernorofMassachusetts；
andthemagistrates，whohadchargeofsuchmatters，sawno
objectiontoEstherDudley’sresidenceintheProvinceHouse，
especiallyastheymustotherwisehavepaidahirelingfortakingcare
ofthepremises，whichwithherwasalaboroflove。Andsothey
lefthertheundisturbedmistressoftheoldhistoricedifice。Many
andstrangewerethefableswhichthegossipswhisperedabouther，
inallthechimneycornersofthetown。Amongthetime-wornarticles
offurniturethathadbeenleftinthemansiontherewasatall，
antiquemirror，whichwaswellworthyofatalebyitself，andperhaps
mayhereafterbethethemeofone。Thegoldofitsheavily-wrought
framewastarnished，anditssurfacesoblurred，thattheold
woman’sfigure，whenevershepausedbeforeit，lookedindistinctand
ghostlike。ButitwasthegeneralbeliefthatEsthercouldcausethe
Governorsoftheoverthrowndynasty，withthebeautifulladieswhohad
onceadornedtheirfestivals，theIndianchiefswhohadcomeuptothe
ProvinceHousetoholdcouncilorswearallegiance，thegrim
Provincialwarriors，thesevereclergymen-inshort，allthepageantry
ofgonedays-allthefiguresthateversweptacrossthebroadplate
ofglassinformertimes-shecouldcausethewholetoreappear，and
peopletheinnerworldofthemirrorwithshadowsofoldlife。Such
legendsasthese，togetherwiththesingularityofherisolated
existence，herage，andtheinfirmitythateachaddedwinterflung
uponher，madeMistressDudleytheobjectbothoffearandpity；and
itwaspartlytheresultofeithersentimentthat，amidallthe
angrylicenseofthetimes，neitherwrongnorinsulteverfellupon
herunprotectedhead。Indeed，therewassomuchhaughtinessinher
demeanortowardsintruders，amongwhomshereckonedallpersonsacting
underthenewauthorities，thatitwasreallyanaffairofnosmall
nervetolookherintheface。Andtodothepeoplejustice，stern
republicansastheyhadnowbecome，theywerewellcontentthatthe
oldgentlewoman，inherhooppetticoatandfadedembroidery，should
stillhauntthepalaceofruinedprideandoverthrownpower，the
symbolofadepartedsystem，embodyingahistoryinherperson。So
EstherDudleydweltyearafteryearintheProvinceHouse，still
reverencingallthatothershadflungaside，stillfaithfultoher
King，who，solongasthevenerabledameyetheldherpost，mightbe
saidtoretainonetruesubjectinNewEngland，andonespotofthe
empirethathadbeenwrestedfromhim。
Anddidshedwellthereinutterloneliness？Rumorsaid，notso。
Wheneverherchillandwitheredheartdesiredwarmth，shewaswont
tosummonablackslaveofGovernorShirley’sfromtheblurredmirror，
andsendhiminsearchofguestswhohadlongagobeenfamiliarin
thosedesertedchambers。Forthwentthesablemessenger，withthe
starlightorthemoonshinegleamingthroughhim，anddidhiserrandin
theburialground，knockingattheirondoorsoftombs，oruponthe
marbleslabsthatcoveredthem，andwhisperingtothosewithin：“My
mistress，oldEstherDudley，bidsyoutotheProvinceHouseat
midnight。”AndpunctuallyastheclockoftheOldSouthtoldtwelve
cametheshadowsoftheOlivers，theHutchinsons，theDudleys，allthe
grandeesofaby-gonegeneration，glidingbeneaththeportalinto
thewell-knownmansion，whereEsthermingledwiththemasifshe
likewisewereashade。Withoutvouchingforthetruthofsuch
traditions，itiscertainthatMistressDudleysometimesassembleda
fewofthestanch，thoughcrestfallen，oldtories，whohadlingeredin
therebeltownduringthosedaysofwrathandtribulation。Outofa
cobwebbedbottle，containingliquorthataroyalGovernormighthave
smackedhislipsover，theyquaffedhealthstotheKing，andbabbled
treasontotheRepublic，feelingasiftheprotectingshadowofthe
thronewerestillflungaroundthem。But，drainingthelastdropsof
theirliquor，theystoletimorouslyhomeward，andanswerednotagain
iftherudemobreviledtheminthestreet。
YetEstherDudley’smostfrequentandfavoredguestswerethe
childrenofthetown。Towardsthemshewasneverstern。Akindlyand
lovingnature，hinderedelsewherefromitsfreecoursebyathousand
rockyprejudices，lavisheditselfupontheselittleones。Bybribesof
gingerbreadofherownmaking，stampedwitharoyalcrown，shetempted
theirsunnysportivenessbeneaththegloomyportaloftheProvince
House，andwouldoftenbeguilethemtospendawholeplaydaythere，
sittinginacircleroundthevergeofherhooppetticoat，greedily
attentivetoherstoriesofadeadworld。Andwhentheselittleboys
andgirlsstoleforthagainfromthedarkmysteriousmansion，they
wentbewildered，fullofoldfeelingsthatgraverpeoplehadlong
agoforgotten，rubbingtheireyesattheworldaroundthemasif
theyhadgoneastrayintoancienttimes，andbecomechildrenofthe
past。Athome，whentheirparentsaskedwheretheyhadloiteredsucha
wearywhile，andwithwhomtheyhadbeenatplay，thechildrenwould
talkofallthedepartedworthiesoftheProvince，asfarbackas
GovernorBelcherandthehaughtydameofSirWilliamPhipps。It
wouldseemasthoughtheyhadbeensittingonthekneesofthese
famouspersonages，whomthegravehadhiddenforhalfacentury，and
hadtoyedwiththeembroideryoftheirrichwaistcoats，orroguishly
pulledthelongcurlsoftheirflowingwigs。“ButGovernorBelcherhas
beendeadthismanyayear。”wouldthemothersaytoherlittleboy。
“AnddidyoureallyseehimattheProvinceHouse？”“Ohyes，dear
mother！yes！”thehalf-dreamingchildwouldanswer。“Butwhenold
Estherhaddonespeakingabouthimhefadedawayoutofhischair。”
Thus，withoutaffrightingherlittleguests，sheledthembythe
handintothechambersofherowndesolateheart，andmadechildhood’s
fancydiscerntheghoststhathauntedthere。
