The temperature, which had been high, abnormally so for June, now
underwent an abrupt change, and a chill current of air, sweeping down
on me from the rear, made my teeth chatter. I involuntarily shrank
back from the window, and, as I did so, to my utter astonishment it
disappeared, and I saw, in its place, a room. It was a long, low room, and opposite to me, at the farthest
extremity, was a large bay window, through which I could see the
nodding tops of the trees. The furniture was all green and of a
lighter, daintier make than any I had hitherto seen. The walls were
covered with pictures, the mantelshelf with flowers. Whilst I was
busily employed noting all these details, the door of the room opened,
and the threshold was gorgeously illuminated by a brilliant sunbeam,
from which suddenly evolved the figure of a young and lovely girl. I can see her now as I saw her then--tall, and slender, with masses
of golden hair, waved artistically aside from a low forehead of
snowy white; finely-pencilled brows, and long eyes of the most
lustrous violet; a straight, delicately-moulded nose, a firm,
beautifully-proportioned chin, and a bewitching mouth. At her bosom
was a bunch of heliotrope, which, deftly undoing, she raised to her
nose and then laughingly held out to me. I was charmed; I took a step
forward towards her. The instant I did so, a wild look of terror
distorted her face, she waved me back, something jarred against my
knee, and, in the place of the room, I saw only the blurred outline
of trees through the yellow window-panes. Bitterly disappointed, but absolutely sure that what I had seen was
objective, I retraced my steps to my bedroom and passed the remainder
of the night in sound sleep. After breakfast, however, unable to restrain my curiosity longer, I
sought Miss Amelia, who was easier to approach than her sister, and,
managing after several efforts to screw up courage, blurted out the
story of my nocturnal escapade. My aunt listened in silence. She was always gentle, but on this
occasion she surpassed herself. "I am not going to scold you, Esther," she said, smoothing out my
curls. "After what you have seen it is useless to conceal the truth
from you. God perhaps intends you to know all. Years ago, Esther, this
house was not as you see it now. It had two wings, and, in the one
that no longer exists was the bedroom you saw in your vision. We
called it the Green Room because everything in it was green, your Aunt
Alicia--an aunt you have never heard of--who slept there, having a
peculiar fancy for that colour. "Alicia was our youngest sister, and we all loved her dearly. She was
just as you describe her--beautiful as a fairy, with golden hair, and
violet eyes, and she always wore a bunch of heliotrope in her dress. "One night, Esther, one lovely, calm, midsummer night, forty years
ago, this house was broken into by burglars. They got in through the
Green Room window, which was always left open during the warm
weather. We--my mother, your Aunt Deborah, and I--were awakened by a
loud shriek for help. Recognising Alicia's voice, we instantly flew
out of bed, and, summoning the servants, tore to the Green Room as
fast as we could. "To our horror, Esther, the door was locked, and before we could break
the lock the ruffians had murdered her! They escaped through the
window and were never caught. My mother, your great-grandmother, had
that part of the house pulled down, and on the site of it she planted
the white garden. "Though Alicia's earthly body died, and was taken from us, her
beautiful spirit remains with us here. It follows us about in the
daytime in the form of a sunbeam, whilst occasionally, at night, it
assumes her earthly shape. The house is what is generally termed
haunted, and, no doubt, some people would be afraid to live in it. But
that, Esther, is because they do not understand spirits--your Aunt
Deborah and I do." "Do you think, auntie," I asked with a thrill of joy, "do you think it
at all likely that I shall see Aunt Alicia again to-night?" Aunt Amelia shook her head gently. "No, my dear," she said slowly, "I
think it will be impossible, because you are going home this
afternoon." CASE X

    "---- HOUSE," NEAR BLYTHSWOOD SQUARE, GLASGOW. THE HAUNTED BATH


When Captain W. de S. Smythe went to look over "---- House," in the
neighbourhood of Blythswood Square, Glasgow, the only thing about the
house he did not like was the bathroom--it struck him as excessively
grim. The secret of the grimness did not lie, he thought, in any one
particular feature--in the tall, gaunt geyser, for example (though
there was always something in the look of a geyser when it was old and
dilapidated, as was the case with this one, that repelled him), or in
the dark drying-cupboard, or in the narrow, slit-like window; but in
the room as a whole, in its atmosphere and general appearance. He
could not diagnose it; he could not associate it with anything else he
had ever experienced; it was a grimness that he could only specify as
grim--grim with a grimness that made him feel he should not like to
be alone there in the dead of night. It was a nuisance, because the
rest of the house pleased him; moreover, the locality was convenient,
and the rent moderate, very moderate for such a neighbourhood. He
thought the matter well over as he leaned in the doorway of the
bathroom. He could, of course, have the room completely renovated--new
paper, new paint, and a fresh bath. Hot-water pipes! The geyser should
be done away with. Geysers were hideous, dangerous, and--pshaw, what
nonsense!--Ghostly! Ghostly! What absurd rot! How his wife would
laugh! That decided the question. His wife! She had expressed a very
ardent wish that he should take a house in or near Blythswood Square,
if he could get one on anything like reasonable terms, and here was
his chance. He would accompany the agent of the property to the
latter's office, and the preliminaries should be forthwith settled. Six weeks later, he and his family were installed in the house, which
still reeked with the smell of fresh paint and paper. The first thing
the Captain did when he got there was to steal away slyly to the
bathroom, and as soon as he opened the door his heart sank. Despite
the many alterations the room had undergone, the grimness was still
there--there, everywhere. In the fine new six-foot bath, with its
glistening, gleaming, wooden framework; in the newly papered, newly
painted cupboard; in the walls, with their bright, fresh paper; in
the snowy surface of the whitewashed ceiling; in the air,--the very
air itself was full of it. The Captain was, as a rule, very fond of
his bath, but in his new quarters he firmly resolved that some one
else should use the bath before he made the experiment.