'Av you ever see a ghost, my dear ?' 'Do, Madame, _pray_ speak of something else.' 'Wat little fool! But no, you are not afraid.

I 'av seen the ghosts myself.
I saw one, for example, last night, shape like a monkey, sitting in the corner, with his arms round his knees; very wicked, old, old man his face was like, and white eyes so large.' 'Come away, Madame! you are trying to frighten me,' I said, in the childish anger which accompanies fear.

Madame laughed an ugly laugh, and said-- 'Eh bien! little fool!--I will not tell the rest if you are really frightened; let us change to something else.' 'Yes, yes! oh, do--pray do.' 'Wat good man is your father!' 'Very--the kindest darling.

I don't know why it is, Madame, I am so afraid of him, and never could tell him how much I love him.' This confidential talking with Madame, strange to say, implied no confidence; it resulted from fear--it was deprecatory.

I treated her as if she had human sympathies, in the hope that they might be generated somehow.
'Was there not a doctor from London with him a few months ago?
Dr.Bryerly, I think they call him.' 'Yes, a Doctor Bryerly, who remained a few days.