"
"A mighty pleasant piece of information," cried an elderly gentleman,
with a knowing look and a flexible nose, to which he could give a
whimsical twist when he wished to be waggish.
"By my soul, but I'd have you know it's a piece of distinction to be
waited upon by a Benshee. It's a proof that one has pure blood in
one's veins. But, egad, now we're talking of ghosts, there never was a
house or a night better fitted than the present for a ghost adventure.
Faith, Sir John, haven't you such a thing as a haunted chamber to put
a guest in?"
"Perhaps," said the Baronet, smiling, "I might accommodate you even on
that point."
"Oh, I should like it of all things, my jewel. Some dark oaken room,
with ugly wo-begone portraits that stare dismally at one, and about
which the housekeeper has a power of delightful stories of love and
murder. And then a dim lamp, a table with a rusty sword across it, and
a spectre all in white to draw aside one's curtains at midnight--"
"In truth," said an old gentleman at one end of the table, "you put me
in mind of an anecdote--"
"Oh, a ghost story! a ghost story!" was vociferated round the board,
every one edging his chair a little nearer.
The attention of the whole company was now turned upon the speaker. He
was an old gentleman, one side of whose face was no match for the
other. The eyelid drooped and hung down like an unhinged window
shutter. Indeed, the whole side of his head was dilapidated, and
seemed like the wing of a house shut up and haunted.
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