The pastor looked at Mary, with an expression which seemed to indicate that he strongly suspected that she had been at that decanter. Mary, however, took no notice of this: she received her instructions, and then left the room.
"It's really very unfortunate," said Aunt Eleanor, "that you should have tasted the very first glass out of that particular bottle!"
"My dear madam," returned the pastor, "depend upon this that I have not had the first glass."
"It was decantered yesterday: it has not since been touched."
"To your knowledge, it may not have been; but it strikes me forcibly that some one has been at it, substituting vinegar, or something of that sort, for three or four glasses of the wine."
"Oh! I should say." rejoined Aunt Eleanor, "that there was something in the bottle before the wine was put in."
The reverend gentleman, however, still adhered strictly to his original opinion, which the wine in the fresh bottle tended to confirm. That as something like wine! and he said so: he, moreover, drank half a pint of it, in order to take the taste of the other out of his mouth; and when this had been effectually accomplished, he briefly reverted to his gentle specific, and then, with many expressions of high consideration, took his leave.
Sylvester, during the whole of this time, was sleeping soundly on the sofa. He had been prevailed upon by his aunt to lie down immediately after he had made that apology for a breakfast: and, as, when he rose, which was not until just before dinner, he ate heartily again, all his fond aunt's apprehensions vanished.
He still, however, looked very languid and pale; and, in order to raise his spirits, she related what had occurred to her reverend friend, and then dwelt more at large upon the mysteries which characterised the preceding night; and after having indulged in a variety of conjectures, of which the majority were very ingenious she ordered the chaise, took him out for a drive, and then made every effort that affection could suggest, to amuse and to cheer him in the evening.
About nine o'clock, however, feeling very much fatigued, he retired to rest. Aunt Eleanor in general went to bed at ten, and so did the servants, usually; but on this particular occasion, cook and Mary—peace between them and Judkius not having been proclaimed—sat alone till past eleven, over a bright kitchen fire, conversing on the subject of recent events, and relating a variety of ghost stories to each other in justification of their respective views. These stories, which are always of a deeply interesting character, made them shudder; and, as some of them were indeed awful, they were aspired with so much dread, that they both felt extremely unwilling to move. They had, moreover, been so intent upon these tales of the imagination, that the candle burned down to the socket unperceived; for while cook, who retained the poker in her hand, kept on stirring the fire continually, Mary's eyes were fixed upon the brightest of the coals, in which she detected with much ingenuity the outlines of divers extraordinary faces.
At length, the wick, deserted by that pure flame which had enveloped
