“Forbear, Selina,” said the phantom in a hollow voice.
“Why should I forbear?” responded Selina haughtily, as she recovered her courage. “You know the secret of our race?”
“I do. Understand me,—I do not object to the eccentricities of your youth. I know the fearful destiny which, pursuing you, led you to poison your sister and drown your lady’s maid. I know the awful doom which I have brought upon this house. But if you make away with these children”—
“Well,” said the Lady Selina hastily.
“They will haunt you!”
“Well, I fear them not,” said Selina, drawing her superb figure to its full height.
“Yes, but, my dear child, what place are they to haunt? The ruin is sacred to your uncle’s spirit. Your aunt monopolizes the park, and, I must be allowed to state, not unfrequently trespasses upon the grounds of others. The horse-pond is frequented by the spirit of your maid, and your murdered sister walks these corridors. To be plain, there is no room at Sloperton Grange for another ghost. I cannot have them in my room,—for you know I don’t like children. Think of this, rash girl, and forbear! Would you, Selina,” said the phantom mournfully,—“would you force your great-grandfather’s spirit to take lodgings elsewhere?”
Lady Selina’s hand trembled; the lighted candle fell from her nerveless fingers.
“No,” she cried passionately; “never!” and fell fainting to the floor.
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