WHEN I WAS DEAD"And yet my heartWill not confess he owes the maladyThat doth my life besiege."--All's Well that Ends WellThat was the worst of Ravenel Hall. The passages were long and gloomy,the rooms were musty and dull, even the pictures were sombre and theirsubjects dire. On an autumn evening, when the wind soughed and ailedthrough the trees in the park, and the dead leaves whistled andchattered, while the rain clamoured at the windows, small wonder thatfolks with gentle nerves went a-straying in their wits! An acutenervous system is a grievous burthen on the deck of a yacht undersunlit skies: at Ravenel the chain of nerves was prone to clash andjangle a funeral march. Nerves must be pampered in a tea-drinkingcommunity; and the ghost that your grandfather, with a skinful ofport, could face and never tremble, sets you, in your sobriety,sweating and shivering; or, becoming scared (poor ghost!) of yourbulged eyes and dropping jaw, he quenches expectation by not appearingat all. So I am left to conclude that it was tea which made myacquaintance afraid to stay at Ravenel. Even Wilvern gave over; and ashe is in the Guards, and a polo player his nerves ought to be strongenough. On the night before he went I was explaining to him my theory,that if you place some drops of human blood near you, and thenconcentrate your thoughts, you will after a while see before you a manor a woman who will stay with you during long hours of the night, andeven meet you at unexpected places during the day. I was explainingthis theory, I repeat, when he interrupted me with words, senselessenough, which sent me fencing and parrying strangers,--on my guard."I say, Alistair, my dear chap!" he began, "you ought to get out ofthis place and go up to Town and knock about a bit--you really ought,you know.""Yes," I replied, "and get poisoned at the hotels by bad food and atthe clubs by bad talk, I suppose. No, thank you: and let me say thatyour care for my health enervates me.""Well, you can do as you like," says he, rapping with his feet on thefloor. "I'm hanged if I stay here after to-morrow I'll be staring madif I do!"He was my last visitor. Some weeks after his departure I was sittingin the library with my drops of blood by me. I had got my theorynearly perfect by this time; but there was one difficulty. The figurewhich I had ever before me was the figure of an old woman with herhair divided in the middle, and her hair fell to her shoulders, whiteon one side and black on the other. She as a very complete old woman;but, alas! she was eyeless, and when I tried to construct the eyes shewould shrivel and rot in my sight. But to-night I was thinking,thinking, as I had never thought before, and the eyes were justcreeping into the head when I heard terrible crash outside as if someheavy substance had fallen. Of a sudden the door was flung open andtwo maid-servants entered they glanced at the rug under my chair, andat that they turned a sick white, cried on God, and huddled out."How dare you enter the library in this manner?" I demanded sternly.No answer came back from them, so I started in pursuit. I found allthe servants in the house gathered in a knot at the end of thepassage."Mrs. Pebble," I said smartly, to the housekeeper, "I want those twowomen discharged to-morrow. It's an outrage! You ought to be morecareful." But she was not attending to me. Her face was distorted withterror.