"Now that he is away I can be easy for a little while," continued the
ghost, "and I am so glad to have an opportunity of talking to you. I
have frequently come into your room, and watched you while you slept,
but did not dare to speak to you for fear that if you talked with me
Mr. Hinckman would hear you, and come into the room to know why you
were talking to yourself."
"But would he not hear you?" I asked.
"Oh, no," said the other, "there are times when any one may see me,
but no one hears me except the person to whom I address myself."
"But why did you wish to speak to me?" I asked.
"Because," replied the ghost, "I like occasionally to talk to people,
and especially to some one like yourself, whose mind is so troubled
and perturbed that you are not likely to be frightened by a visit from
one of us. But I particularly wanted to ask you to do me a favor.
There is every probability, so far as I can see, that John Hinckman
will live a long time, and my situation is becoming insupportable. My
great object at present is to get myself transferred, and I think that
you may, perhaps, be of use to me."
"Transferred!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean by that?"
"What I mean," said the other, "is this: Now that I have started on my
career I have got to be the ghost of somebody; and I want to be the
ghost of a man who is really dead."
"I should think that would be easy enough," I said. "Opportunities
must continually occur."
"Not at all! not at all!" said my companion, quickly. "You have no
idea what a rush and pressure there is for situations of this kind.
Whenever a vacancy occurs, if I may express myself in that way, there
are crowds of applications for the ghostship."
"I had no idea that such a state of things existed," I said, becoming
quite interested in the matter. "There ought to be some regular
system, or order of precedence, by which you could all take your turns
like customers in a barber's shop."
"Oh dear, that would never do at all!" said the other. "Some of us
would have to wait forever. There is always a great rush whenever a
good ghostship offers itself--while, as you know, there are some
positions that no one would care for. And it was in consequence of my
being in too great a hurry on an occasion of the kind that I got
myself into my present disagreeable predicament, and I have thought
that it might be possible that you would help me out of it. You might
know of a case where an opportunity for a ghostship was not generally
expected, but which might present itself at any moment. If you would
give me a short notice, I know I could arrange for a transfer."
"What do you mean?" I exclaimed. "Do you want me to commit suicide? Or
to undertake a murder for your benefit?"
"Oh, no, no, no!" said the other, with a vapory smile. "I mean nothing
of that kind. To be sure, there are lovers who are watched with
considerable interest, such persons having been known, in moments of
depression, to offer very desirable ghostships, but I did not think of
anything of that kind in connection with you. You were the only person
I cared to speak to, and I hoped that you might give me some
information that would be of use; and, in return, I shall be very glad
to help you in your love affair."
"You seem to know that I have such an affair," I said.
"Oh, yes," replied the other, with a little yawn. "I could not be here
so much as I have been without knowing all about that."
There was something horrible in the idea of Madeline and myself having
been watched by a ghost, even, perhaps, when we wandered together in
the most delightful and bosky places. But, then, this was quite an
exceptional ghost, and I could not have the objections to him which
would ordinarily arise in regard to beings of his class.
"I must go now," said the ghost, rising, "but I will see you somewhere
to-morrow night. And remember--you help me, and I'll help you."
I had doubts the next morning as to the propriety of telling Madeline
anything about this interview, and soon convinced myself that I must
keep silent on the subject. If she knew there was a ghost about the
house she would probably leave the place instantly. I did not mention
the matter, and so regulated my demeanor that I am quite sure Madeline
never suspected what had taken place. For some time I had wished that
Mr. Hinckman would absent himself, for a day at least, from the
premises. In such case I thought I might more easily nerve myself up
to the point of speaking to Madeline on the subject of our future
collateral existence, and, now that the opportunity for such speech
had really occurred, I did not feel ready to avail myself of it. What
would become of me if she refused me?
I had an idea, however, that the lady thought that, if I were going to
speak at all, this was the time. She must have known that certain
sentiments were afloat within me, and she was not unreasonable in her
wish to see the matter settled one way or the other. But I did not
feel like taking a bold step in the dark. If she wished me to ask her
to give herself to me, she ought to offer me some reason to suppose
that she would make the gift. If I saw no probability of such
generosity, I would prefer that things should remain as they were.
* * * * *
That evening I was sitting with Madeline in the moonlit porch. It was
nearly ten o'clock, and ever since supper-time I had been working
myself up to the point of making an avowal of my sentiments. I had not
positively determined to do this, but wished gradually to reach the
proper point when, if the prospect looked bright, I might speak. My
companion appeared to understand the situation--at least, I imagined
that the nearer I came to a proposal the more she seemed to expect it.
It was certainly a very critical and important epoch in my life. If I
spoke, I should make myself happy or miserable forever, and if I did
not speak I had every reason to believe that the lady would not give
me another chance to do so.
Sitting thus with Madeline, talking a little, and thinking very hard
over these momentous matters, I looked up and saw the ghost, not a
dozen feet away from us. He was sitting on the railing of the porch,
one leg thrown up before him, the other dangling down as he leaned
against a post. He was behind Madeline, but almost in front of me, as
I sat facing the lady. It was fortunate that Madeline was looking out
over the landscape, for I must have appeared very much startled. The
ghost had told told me that he would see me some time this night, but
I did not think he would make his appearance when I was in the company
of Madeline. If she should see the spirit of her uncle, I could not
answer for the consequences. I made no exclamation, but the ghost
evidently saw that I was troubled.
"Don't be afraid," he said--"I shall not let her see me; and she
cannot hear me speak unless I address myself to her, which I do not
intend to do."