Wot I meant was, that very night the gal gets a boat an' rows up to Kit's House, arter leavin' a letter to say as she'd drownded hersel'.

An' there she lived in hidin', 'long wi' the leppards for the rest of her days, which, by the tale, warn't many, an' she an' her sweetheart was berried in wan grave." Caleb paused for breath.
"And the ghosts ?" said Mr.Fogo, much interested.
"Some ha' seed her rowin' about here in a boat, o' dark nights; and others swear to seein' all the leppards a-marchin' down wi' her corpse to the berryin'-ground.

Leastways, that's the tale.
Jan Spettigue was the last as seed 'em, but as he be'eld three devils on his own chimbly-piece the week arter, along o' too much rum, p'r'aps he made a mistake.

Anyways, 'tes a moral yarn, an' true to natur'.

These young wimmen es a very detarmined sex, whether 'tes a leppard in the case or a Rooshan." Mr.Fogo had fallen into a reflective silence.
"'Tes a thousand pities this 'ere place should be empty, wi' a lean-to Crystal Pallis--by which I means a conserva-tory, sir--an' gardens, an' room for a cow, an' a Pyll o' ets own--" "A what ?" "Pyll, sir, otherwise a creek--'c, r, double e, k--an arm o' the sea,' as the spellin' book says." A curious fascination stole over Mr.Fogo as he looked earnestly at the house round which these memories hung.