She sometimes
thought such dead sleep must be owing to the hearty suppers the
poor lad ate, for he was half-starved at home, and she told Jenny
to see that he got a good meal at night.
Still this was no confession of Mrs Forrester's peculiar timidity,
and we urged her to tell us what she thought would frighten her
more than anything. She paused, and stirred the fire, and snuffed
the candles, and then she said, in a sounding whisper -
"Ghosts!"
She looked at Miss Pole, as much as to say, she had declared it,
and would stand by it. Such a look was a challenge in itself.
Miss Pole came down upon her with indigestion, spectral illusions,
optical delusions, and a great deal out of Dr Ferrier and Dr
Hibbert besides. Miss Matty had rather a leaning to ghosts, as I
have mentioned before, and what little she did say was all on Mrs
Forrester's side, who, emboldened by sympathy, protested that
ghosts were a part of her religion; that surely she, the widow of a
major in the army, knew what to be frightened at, and what not; in
short, I never saw Mrs Forrester so warm either before or since,
for she was a gentle, meek, enduring old lady in most things. Not
all the elder-wine that ever was mulled could this night wash out
the remembrance of this difference between Miss Pole and her
hostess.
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