"
"Surely, Mr. Grant, you do not expect such a personal advent!" said
Miss Graeme.
"I should not like to say what I do or don't expect," answered
Donal--and held his peace, for he saw he was but casting
stumbling-blocks.
The silence grew awkward; and Mr. Graeme's good breeding called on
him to say something; he supposed Donal felt himself snubbed by his
sister.
"If you are fond of the marvellous, though, Mr. Grant," he said,
"there are some old stories about the castle would interest you.
One of them was brought to my mind the other day in the town. It
is strange how superstition seems to have its ebbs and flows! A
story or legend will go to sleep, and after a time revive with fresh
interest, no one knows why."
"Probably," said Donal, "it is when the tale comes to ears fitted
for its reception. They are now in many counties trying to get
together and store the remnants of such tales: possibly the wind of
some such inquiry may have set old people recollecting, and young
people inventing. That would account for a good deal--would it
not?"
"Yes, but not for all, I think. There has been no such inquiry made
anywhere near us, so far as I am aware. I went to the Morven Arms
last night to meet a tenant, and found the tradesmen were talking,
over their toddy, of various events at the castle, and especially of
one, the most frightful of all.
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