Madge seated herself on the
side of the marble ledge which girdled the still pool of water in front
of the house, and dipped her hand into the cool water. Brian leaned
against the trunk of a great magnolia tree, whose glossy green leaves
and great creamy blossoms looked fantastic in the moonlight. In front
of them was the house, with the ruddy lamplight streaming through the
wide windows, and they could see the guests within, excited by the
music, waltzing to Rolleston's playing, and their dark figures kept
passing and re-passing the windows while the charming music of the
waltz mingled with their merry laughter.
"Looks like a haunted house," said Brian, thinking of Poe's weird
poem; "but such a thing is impossible out here."
"I don't know so much about that," said Madge, gravely, lifting up some
water in the palm of her hand, and letting it stream back like diamonds
in the moonlight. "I knew a house in St. Kilda which was haunted."
"By what?" asked Brian, sceptically.
"Noises!" she answered, solemnly.
Brian burst out laughing and startled a bat, which fleur round and
round in the silver moonlight, and whirred away into the shelter of a
witch elm.
"Rats and mice are more common here than ghosts," he said, lightly.
"I'm afraid the inhabitants of your haunted house were fanciful."
"So you don't believe in ghosts?"
"There's a Banshee in our family," said Brian, with a gay smile, "who
is supposed to cheer our death beds with her howlings; but as I've
never seen the lady myself, I'm afraid she's a Mrs.
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