There is something delightfully novel in promenading with a young lady at the witching hour of midnight, when graveyards yawn, and gibbering ghosts in winding-sheets cut up cantrips before high heaven.
Come." "But Mr.Stanford--" "Reginald, I tell you.

You promised, you know." "But really Reginald, it is too late.

What if we were seen ?" "Nonsense! Who is to see us! And if they do, haven't brothers and sisters a right to walk at midnight as well as noonday if they choose?
Besides, we may see the spectre of Danton Hall, and I would give a month's pay for the sight any time." They entered the tamarack walk as he spoke--bright enough at the entrance, where the starlight streamed in, but in the very blackness of darkness farther down.
"How horribly dismal!" cried Rose, clinging to him more closely than ever.

"A murder might be committed here, and no one be the wiser." "A fit place for a ghostly promenade.

Spectre of Danton, appear! Hist! What is that ?" Rose barely suppressed a shriek.