I could not even move from my
post for fear, I felt the cold perspiration streaming down from my
temples, my whole frame shook, and my teeth chattered together. It was something more than mortal fear that I suffered; it was as if I
were in the presence of some supernatural being. Gradually I became
aware of a dark form, apparently that of a woman, close to my bed. My
eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, and I could distinguish the
various objects in my bed-chamber with greater facility. I rivetted my eyes on the figure, but all I could discern was a long
black robe and two white hands. I looked for the face, but in vain. It
seemed covered up, for the shoulders merged into the darkness. Soon, as if to aid my vision, a sort of pale blue light spread a halo
around the figure, and grew gradually brighter, setting it off in
relief. I could now see the whole figure distinctly. I looked for the
head. Oh, horror! _It was wanting._

I shuddered, and felt an intense desire to scream, but my voice was
gone. Had I then really lived to see a ghost? Was there, then, some
foundation for the strange name given to the inn? I had never heard from
my friend Rustcoin that it was reported haunted, and I most assuredly
should have heard about it if he had had any knowledge of it. Perhaps it was a thing not generally known; perhaps its appearance was
not usual, and it only appeared at intervals to certain privileged
beings. Was I one of those beings? I asked myself. Perhaps so. It might
have something to communicate. I would address it, but my tongue clove
to the roof of my mouth, for now I saw distinctly that the head I had
missed was carried under the left arm of the figure. I marked well the face; it was extremely beautiful, and I thought I
recognised a likeness to the old portrait I had been looking at; but oh! how far short that old piece of painted panel fell of the original; if,
indeed, it was ever intended for a representation of the lineaments I
now gazed upon. I made a second effort to address it, but as I opened my mouth to speak
I heard another most audible moan from the headless figure. I was awed,
but that intense fear which I experienced when I became aware that some
stranger had entered my chamber had all but vanished now that I was
_certain_ that I was in the presence of a denizen of the spirit world. Awful as this certainty was, it seemed to fade into insignificance when
compared with the terrible feeling of doubt I had before experienced. I
now felt comparatively relieved; so much so, indeed, that I even found
room in my heart for pity--that one so young and so beautiful as she
appeared to be should have suffered such a cruel and ignominious death. At length, in a low and subdued tone, I addressed the figure. "Spirit, whate'er thou art or wert, whether of good or evil, whether
from the regions of the blest or the haunts of the damned, speak! Declare thy mission." A hollow moan proceeded from the trunk of the headless figure, and the
eyes in the head held under its arm rolled upwards with a look of
despair, while in tones low, solemn, yet sweet, it spoke, the lips
vibrating, though the voice came from the neck. "I am the spirit of one who, dying in mortal sin, am doomed to perpetual
unrest. Beheaded for my crimes in this world, I wander nightly round
this spot, the scene of my infamy. Here where this house now stands once
stood the convent whose walls imprisoned me while yet on earth. Forced
into a life of seclusion for which I had no calling by a relentless
parent who, deeming that his daughter's alliance with the man she loved
would sully his illustrious name, I was compelled to utter vows with my
lips against which my heart revolted. "I could not join in the pious oraisons of my sister nuns, for while my
knees bent and my lips moved my spirit was elsewhere. Day after day I
languished within my prison walls, mechanically going through my duties
with the rest, but to all outward seeming with devotion, for not one of
them knew but that I myself had chosen that calling. "None knew then what I bore within. I made no friends, sought no
confidant. When I confessed, my confessions were always of a vague sort,
for I was reserved on that one point which, if confessed, would have
been regarded as the most heinous crime. "At length our father confessor, who was an old man, died, and a new
priest took his place. "Holy Virgin! it was my lover. He had discovered my whereabouts, and,
with no holier object than the desire to see me again, he had entered
into holy orders, and by stratagem contrived to enter our convent." Here the figure gave a deep sigh, and paused. The face writhed, as if
struggling with itself, whether it should proceed or remain silent. The
pause was agonising, but I wished to hear more. "Proceed," I said. Another deep sigh ensued, and she continued. "Mortal," she said with evident reluctance, "you will despise me when
you have heard the full extent of my crime. No matter, I am not what I
was--I can bear it. Know, then, that I fell. Ay, blush for me, hate,
loathe, despise me as thou wilt. Those holy walls which re-echoed for
ages with nought save the prayers and the chanting of pious nuns, were
doomed to hear the whispered words of fierce passion and to witness
scenes that must for ever leave a stain upon their fair memory. "Enough, our intrigue was discovered, and I was sentenced to death. I
was beheaded secretly, yet even blood could not wash out the foul stain
from my soul, and I have ever since been doomed to eternal pangs of
remorse." "What!" I exclaimed, "and had your lover no knowledge of this?" "He had, and furious at the news, he came by night and set fire to the
convent. The building was razed to the ground, and every nun perished." "And your lover," I asked, "what became of him?" "He died shortly afterwards. I was permitted to see his spirit but once,
and then he was torn away from me for ever. It is that which grieves me
most, for I know not what fate is reserved for him. "Heaven grant that his state may be happier than mine. Oh, how willingly
would I bear the weight of all his sins, so that his portion might be in
the region of the blest. I would then bear my doom without a murmur,
even were my sufferings ten-fold." "And with this charitable feeling towards the author of thy ruin, canst
thou possess a soul so black as to merit eternal punishment?" said I. "Alas!" murmured the spirit, "when we die in mortal sin our doom is
sealed, yet I would fain hope still that before I quit this state of
purgatory and am consigned to eternal flames that the prayers of
others----"

"I understand; it was with that object, then, thou soughtest me--that I
might pray for thy soul?" "It was," replied the spirit; "and also for my lover. Oh, let me not
pray in vain. Tell me thou wilt pray for me." "Spirit," I answered, "I am not of thy creed. I am a Protestant. Our
church holds all prayers for the dead useless." "I know it; but it is an error. Pray, nevertheless.