The Argosy — page 308: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Erna. 2goI imagine, to haunt a place where, if you and your legends are to be trusted, his dying so inconveniently was the cause of Geoffrey Heath- cott dying also. Does he hope that in the course of a few centuries his master’s remains—they are hidden away somewhere, are they not? —may become unsubstantial enough for even a ghost to give them burial ?” “You dull, silly fellow! I know what old Winstanley would want to show to me, but I shudder at the very thought of passing a night in that horrible room they name after him.” ‘¢ And what would he want to show you ?” I asked. “The secret of the secret chamber, to be sure. He would lead the way to that part of the house where it lies; and then, if I had courage enough to follow him, he would indicate to me in his ghostly pantomime how to enter i “show me where the spring 1s, and how it works. ‘Then, if I had the still greater courage to look in, I should see—oh! I should see —” pressing her hands with a gesture of mimic terror before her eyes—‘“ bones lying there—the bones of that gallant and noble gentleman that we Heathcotts are so proud to think was our ancestor.” I looked at her, uncertain as to how much of her speech was jest, how much earnest, puzzled to know whether she put faith in the family ghost, or not. ‘You would not dare sleep in the room they call Winstanley’s?” I questioned. ‘‘ Are you so superstitious, Erna, as to say that seriously ?” Erna darted at me her most indignant glance, by way of ac knowledgment of my question. ‘“ Are you so great a hero yourself, Gerald, that you would care to sleep in it ?” she asked. “You forget,” I said, lightly, ‘‘that I have not seen this chamber of horrors yet.” *¢See it now, then,” she flashed out. ‘‘ Come with me, and tell me if you would care to have it for your own while you stay here.” She ran off before I could answer; and I followed slowly to the house, and found her, after some minutes’ search, returning from the housekeeper’s private sanctum. ‘‘ Now,” she said, holding up a key that left deep stains of rust on her dainty fingers—‘ now for the haunted room !” I was not thinking of it, or of the legend connected with it, as I followed her there. How could I think of a room and a legend centuries old with that fair young face beside me? Sweet face— grown something more matronly now than in the days when the world seemed to me a thing that,if I had it, might be laid at those feet for one kiss from those lips—I have but to close my eyes, and you are before me again, as bright and sunny as in the bright time of your girlhood. How sweetly the vision shines on me! I see the calm old woods of Devon, and rising from them the roof of a grey manor-house, its twin vanes shining redly in the morning sun; through the trees are caught dlimpses of the windings of the Dart, GOnilGaooks An