But as to the place being haunted, I've no more doubt about it than about my catechism." "But, Martha, you ought to know it's very silly and wicked to believe in such things," Ellen Whitelaw said, feeling it her duty to lecture the girl a little, and yet half inclined to believe her.

"The moanings and groanings, as you call them, were only sounds made by the wind, I daresay." "O dear no, mum," Martha answered, shaking her head in a decided manner; "the wind never made such noises as _I_ heard.

But I don't want to make you nervous, mum; only I'd sooner lose a month's wages than stay for an hour alone in the west wing." It was strange, certainly; a matter of no importance, perhaps, this idle belief of a servant's, these sounds which harmed no one; and yet all these circumstances worried and perplexed Ellen Whitelaw.

Having so little else to think of, she brooded upon them incessantly, and was gradually getting into a low nervous way.

If she complained, which she did very rarely, there was no one to sympathise with her.