Nothing human ever wore a look
like that of the ghastly, hollow-eyed, pale-lipped countenance below the
hood. All saw it and held their breath as it slowly raised a shadowy arm
and pointed a shriveled finger at Sir Jasper.
"Speak, whatever you are, or I'll quickly prove whether you are man or
spirit!" cried Jasper fiercely, stepping forward as if to grasp the
extended arm that seemed to menace him alone.
An icy gust swept through the hall, and the phantom slowly receded into
the shadow. Jasper sprang after it, but nothing crossed the second
stream of light, and nothing remained in the shade. Like one possessed
by a sudden fancy he rushed down the gallery to find all fast and empty,
and to return looking very strangely. Blanche had fainted away and Annon
was bearing her out of the hall. Rose was clinging to Mrs. Snowdon, and
Octavia leaned against her cousin, saying in a fervent whisper, "Thank
God it did not point at you!"
"Am I then dearer than your brother?" he whispered back.
There was no audible reply, but one little hand involuntarily pressed
his, though the other was outstretched toward Jasper, who came up white
and startled but firm and quiet. Affecting to make light of it, he said,
forcing a smile as he raised Mrs.
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