The next moment he had left his hiding-place and was following her. Whilst he groped his way in the dark his heart beat as tumultuously as that of the most ardent lover hastening to the presence of his mistress. At a bend in the passage he perceived a stream of light proceeding from the doorway of one of the apartments. He stole up to it, and cautiously advanced an eye.

She was there. With her back towards him she was bending over something in her hand; the lamp stood beside her on the stone table.

What was she so intent on? Could it be the likeness of some ghostly lover? What a paragon must he have been to have won the heart of this exquisite flower of maidenhood. Incredible as it may seem, the Professor experienced a pang of jealousy, his curiosity waxing so great that it got the better of his discretion. He deliberately crept up behind and peeped over her shoulder.

With an absurd feeling of relief he discovered that it was an open note-book that she held, in which she was diligently writing with a pencil.

His curiosity was not yet satisfied-he must learn what she was writing; and eagerly leaning forward to read, his long beard accidentally swept her neck.

She gave a violent start, which brought her head into contact with his. To be a ghost's head it was a hard one, and the water rushed to his eyes from the blow. The book fell from her fingers. She turned and saw him. A cry that was strangely human escaped her lips, and her dilated eyes remained fixed, as though in awful fascination, on the intruder.

Aghast at the consequences of his temerity, Sonnenschein retreated to the doorway. He vainly strove to form words of apology, but his tongue refused utterance; he could only bow repeatedly, accompanying each inclination with gesticulations intended to convey the abject state of his feelings.

To his dismay he saw the beautiful eyes set like two stars; the small hands clutched the air as though seeking support, and had he not rushed forward and caught her she would have fallen on the hard stone.

Awful dilemma! What was he to do? He held the body--ah ! no mistake about it, a real, natural body-and gazed wildly into the pale face. There was no water, no restorative, no assistance to be had. He lowered his burden to the ground, and fell to chafing the cold hands.

echoes, seemed to fill the old place with waves of sound that wailed and moaned like legions of lost souls.

Instinctively he crouched down and put up his arms, under the impression that something was about to tumble on his head. However, the noise ceasing, and finding himself unhurt, he sat up and looked about him.

Professor Sonnenschein, as we have stated, had no belief in the supernatural, but how was he to account for what he saw? He had heard of optical delusions-was he the victim of one?

He strained his eyes and stared with all his might. Yes, it was there, and he was in perfect possession of all his faculties.

A female figure was gliding noiselessly along the far end of the hall. She held a lamp aloft in her hand; its rays illuminated her features, they were transcendently lovely. Her large and lustrous eyes moved awfully from side to side as she advanced. She was dressed in a long white robe that swept the ground behind her. Her thick flaxen braids hung down from her shapely head to her waist. "She is the personification of Faust's Gretchen," thought Sonnenschein, beginning to glow with admiration. The lighted cigar that he had held between his fingers smouldered forgotten at his feet on the floor. All at once she stopped short, and her face seemed to assume an expression of astonishment which was wonderfully human. She sniffed the air.

"Tabac!" she murmured in German, “I could be sworn. How very odd!"

After gazing about her for a few moments, yet, ghost like, seeing not the mortal that crouched in the chimney, she turned and entered the passage that led to other of the apartments, placed the lamp on the ground and retraced her airy steps back to the moon-lit hall.

Remarkable it was that, although this was the Professor's first acquaintance with a ghost, he was not in the least degree appalled. His only anxiety was that he might not, by inadvertent cough or sneeze, scare it away. He remained motionless, and scarcely daring to breathe.

She had gone over to one of the windows, where she leaned, looking so fair, so sweet, so spiritual, that had she unfolded a pair of silvery wings and flown away he would have grieved but scarcely have wondered.

Now she heaved a gentle sigh, ah! such a human sigh, that Sonnenschein had almost forgotten himself and sighed too in very sympathy. At length she moved away, re-entered the passage and took up the lamp, then, gradually receding, was lost to his sight.

The next moment he had left his hiding-place and was following her. Whilst he groped his way in the dark his heart beat as tumultuously as that of the most ardent lover hastening to the presence of his mistress. At a bend in the passage he perceived a stream of light proceeding from the doorway of one of the apartments. He stole up to it, and cautiously advanced an eye.

She was there. With her back towards him she was bending over something in her hand; the lamp stood beside her on the stone table.

What was she so intent on? Could it be the likeness of some ghostly lover? What a paragon must he have been to have won the heart of this exquisite flower of maidenhood. Incredible as it may seem, the Professor experienced a pang of jealousy, his curiosity waxing so great that it got the better of his discretion. He deliberately crept up behind and peeped over her shoulder.

With an absurd feeling of relief he discovered that it was an open note-book that she held, in which she was diligently writing with a pencil.

His curiosity was not yet satisfied-he must learn what she was writing; and eagerly leaning forward to read, his long beard accidentally swept her neck.

She gave a violent start, which brought her head into contact with his. To be a ghost's head it was a hard one, and the water rushed to his eyes from the blow. The book fell from her fingers. She turned and saw him. A cry that was strangely human escaped her lips, and her dilated eyes remained fixed, as though in awful fascination, on the intruder.

Aghast at the consequences of his temerity, Sonnenschein retreated to the doorway. He vainly strove to form words of apology, but his tongue refused utterance; he could only bow repeatedly, accompanying each inclination with gesticulations intended to convey the abject state of his feelings.

To his dismay he saw the beautiful eyes set like two stars; the small hands clutched the air as though seeking support, and had he not rushed forward and caught her she would have fallen on the hard stone.

Awful dilemma! What was he to do? He held the body-ah! no mistake about it, a real, natural body-and gazed wildly into the pale face. There was no water, no restorative, no assistance to be had. He lowered his burden to the ground, and fell to chafing the cold hands.

Presently she stirred. The fringed eyelids parted, and her eyes rested vaguely on the bearded face close to her own.

Sonnenschein's was a countenance calculated to win the confidence of the most timid of her sex. In its gentleness and strength it encouraged the weak to seek protection of its owner, and now it was eloquent with tenderest solicitude. As, half unconscious, she gazed into it, she gathered courage, but soon the singularity of her situation seemed to dawn on her. She moved uneasily.

"Do you feel better, madam ?" he faltered.

"Better? What—what is the matter? Where am I?"

She raised herself to a sitting posture, and looked about her in bewilderment.

"In the castle, my lady-Rheineck."

"But--but who are you?" she stammered.

"My name, madam, is Sonnenschein-Professor Sonnenschein. A most unhappy man-wretch-to have been the cause of distress to you. I-I find myself unable to convey to you in words my remorse."

"But I do not understand," she interrupted. "How do you come to be here?"

"An unlucky accident-locked in, madam-last evening."

"Oh-h!" Her puzzled brain seemed to clear, a cloud of perplexity to leave her brow.

"But why you did not knock, I cannot conceive," she resumed. "Had you knocked at our door we would have let you through our dwelling. You have martyrised yourself unnecessarily, Herr Professor."

And now she grasped the edge of the table to pull herself to her feet, but Sonnenschein sprang forward to her aid. With a boldness and an agility which surprised himself he raised her in his arms.

"Are you sure, my dear lady, that you are able to stand alone?" he inquired, still retaining his hold of her, yet in a manner so delicate and reverential that the veriest prude could not have been offended.

"I am somewhat dizzy," she murmured, closing her eyes, and in a moment her flaxen head leaned on his breast.

Ah, how his heart bounded! He feared that its wild throbbings might alarm her.

Already she withdrew herself. Her eyes sought his, and a pair of the most bewitching dimples began to show in her fair cheeks. Her sweet lips parted, displaying a row of pearly teeth, and all at once she broke into a silvery laugh.

Sonnenschein, at all times readily infected by mirth, joined in the laugh. Never in all his life had he felt so gay.

"How very absurd!" she cried; "to think that we should have been playing ghosts to each other." And again her laughter rang out, in which the delighted Professor heartily joined.

"And do you not wonder who I am, Professor Sonnenschein ?" she asked, her dimples still playing at hide and seek.

"I guess that you are the talented lady who resides in the left wing of the castle," he replied; "but how you entered the hall I cannot imagine."

"Not on a broom-stick, I assure you!" she cried gleefully. "And I have a name like any other mortal. Do you know it? "

"I have not the happiness, dear lady.”

"It is Gretchen von Morgenstern."

Gretchen, after all !" exclaimed Sonnenschein, forgetting himself in his surprise and delight. The next moment he was covered with confusion, for a deep blush suffused her face.

A thousand pardons, madam!" he implored. "Think not, I pray you, that I could presume to address you by that familiar name. sprang to my lips involuntarily, because, when first I saw you, I was reminded of the Gretchen in Goethe's 'Faust.' You seemed the embodiment of the poet's divine conception. Will you forgive me?"

Whilst he was speaking, her looks sought the ground in shy embarrassment, which, however, were entirely free from displeasure. She laughed. "I have nothing to forgive," she responded. "It is because I am a blonde that you thought me like Gretchen. Besides, it is such a very common name."

"It is of all names the sweetest," insisted the Professor, with so much warmth that she was fain to laugh again, and her white teeth pressed her under lip. Presently she exclaimed :

"I am a bad hostess. You, poor prisoner, have had no supper, and it is long past midnight. Come, Herr Professor, and I will see what I can find in my larder to set before you."

"You are too good, my lady, but at this hour I cannot intrude." "You have no alternative," she interrupted, "unless you would stay here all night? May I trouble you to carry the lamp, please?" She spoke with such decision that he could do no other than comply, and, taking up the lamp, he offered his arm to her. She accepted it.

How the touch of her fingers thrilled him, though they lay on his sleeve as lightly as snow-flakes!