shut her eyes. She saw the door open wider, and a tall figure approach.

Oh, horror! it was the same dark man her aunt had described, and he certainly had a child in his arms, with its throat cut.

He slowly approached-came quite near; his bloodshot eyes were fixed on her with a ghastly stare, and drops of blood fell on the bed-clothes, while Mary could not move or

even scream.

Then the figure turned slowly away, away, and walked towards a door on the other side of the room, which seemed to open; and she saw a bright red glow beyond, like fire, but more livid and dreadful; and she thought the man went gradually sinking down into it, and there were black figures, with enormous. mouths grinning with delight.

The room was filled with them, and Mary felt she could not breathe, and those dreadful eyes winked at her.

dral clock struck twelve, she could not help

looking up.

A faint moonlight now shone through the casement, and Mary found it impossible not to look in the direction of the mysterious closet.

She had seen her mother lock the door of it when she came to bed that evening, and Mary had felt so glad when she heard the lock turn, and saw her mother try it afterwards, to ascertain that it was firmly secured.

The Cathedral chimes ceased, and then she again heard the wailing voice: it sounded very low and faint, but certainly came from the other side of the door, on which her eyes were fixed with increasing dread.

Then a sound like a scream of pain was heard, and the door burst open! It opened quite wide, and that cold, damp air, with the dreadful smell, blew strongly against Mary's face.

A dark figure then glided across the room, exactly as she had observed the apparition, in her dream.

It was a man with a large dark beard, and she could see the window through him, and the blue moonlight. He moved towards that part of the wall where she had seen the hinges of a door; but Mary was so frightened lest she should behold more horrors, that she uttered a loud cry, and called wildly to her father and mother for help.

"Oh ! mamma, do wake; oh! save me; oh! papa, come quick!"

She uttered a piercing shriek, and then fainted.

Mr. Lennox and his wife started up. They found the child quite insensible; but when they sprinkled her face with water, she opened hereyes.

"Oh! take me from this room," she exclaimed, as soon as she could speak: "I can't bear it; indeed I can't," she cried hysterically.

"That dreadful man! see, he really did open

the door look, mamma!"

:

They both saw that the closet door was open, though perfectly closed when they retired to rest. "It is certainly very strange," said Mr. Lennox ; "this must be looked into."

"Oh yes! do, pray do, Papa, for I saw him go out at that part of the room," said Mary, pointing to the spot. She described what she had observed about the hinges.

Mr. Lennox took the candle and examined the wall, and certainly found the hinges just where she pointed out, and then the mark of a door in the panel. He struck it with his hand, and it sounded hollow, unlike the tone produced by the rest of the wainscot when struck.

But they did not like to disturb any one in the house at that hour by using violence to open it.

Mr. Lennox resolved to investigate the matter closely in the morning, and inform Mr. Mandeville of what had occurred. He thought that

some mischievous person had been playing a trick; and that perhaps there might be some secret staircase or passage into that room, of which Mr. Mandeville had no knowledge.

He determined to sit up and read while his wife and child tried to sleep.

The latter now felt comparatively safe, seeing her father read, in a chair close to her bed, with two candles burning on the table, and was so completely tired and worn out with all her fears, that she soon sank into a quiet slumber.

Harriet would not tell her sister anything about the night's disturbance; but Mary was very ill the next morning, and Lucy having her suspicions awakened, took her into her own room; and when the door was closed, and that she had ascertained no one was listening, she questioned her.

"I don't know whether I ought to tell you, dear aunt, for I heard mamma say she did not wish you to hear of it; and yet—”