We reached our lodgings, carrying our bag and
box, without meeting anybody. We swallowed a
bowl of coffee each, on our return, and Frederick soon
after tumbled into bed. Spite of the coffee, which had
been made strong, he was instantly asleep, and slept
like a top. I remained awake for two goodly hours,
soliciting the friendly sleep in vain. But Frederick
was awake with the dawn, and off. What he did that
day I know not; but he was busy. At night he
came again; and again, that night, we penetrated the
dwelling of Marie, and the secret entrance. There,
and about the house, we worked with continued industry
for several goodly hours, making as little stir
as possible, and studiously avoiding noise and loud talking.
If we had occasion to use a hammer or to drive
a nail, we covered hammer, nail, and board with woollen
or cotton waddings. I need not now tell you what
was done. Enough that we put certain wires in motion,
by which to secure the ghost, though not to in

[figure description] Page 166.[end figure description]

jure him. We also contrived secret places of hiding
for other parties, should these become necessary to
our purposes. All these proceedings were not effected,
however, in a single night. It took us several,
before we had finished our work; and much of the
work—all, in fact, that could be accomplished abroad,
was done elsewhere during the day. Frederick worked
like a hero; as none, indeed, but a hero or a genius
can work. His whole soul was in his performance,
and this is the one secret only which makes performance
successful. His cheerfulness amounted to enthusiasm;
so that, when most intensely at work, his
spirits seemed most happily at play, his fancy luxuriating
in the most grateful wantonness, and his moods
never once putting on the aspect of a care. And in
this temper lies the secret of the best work always.
It is the mule-nature that goes doggedly to its tasks.
Such a nature may suffice for turning a mill, but not
for glorious or great achievement.

All his preparations completed for the proper reception
of the ghost, the next step of Frederick
Brandon was to recall Marie de Berniere from her
plantation to her town residence; and then to compel
the spectre to reappear. To effect these objects, he prepared
to dispatch his sister, Madame de Chateauneuve,
on a visit to his betrothed. But watched as was the
latter, it was necessary that certain precautions should
be taken, even for this object, by which to avoid all
suspicion of what was in hand; and, in fact, to direct
the doubts of the enemy to a wholly different quarter.
Accordingly, Frederick set to work to compose a letter

[figure description] Page 167.[end figure description]

to Marie, which I was permitted to read as he wrote.
It ran thus:—

“How I rejoice, dearest Marie, that the advice of
my sister has been productive of such beneficial effects—
that your health improves, and that your mind is
again recovering its freedom from the painful effects
of its strange unhappy hallucinations. I was well
assured, from the first, that a disordered imagination,
and a highly excited state of your nervous
system, were the true secrets of your suffering, and
that the vulgar trick of some artful and malicious
rival, co-operating with the diseased state of your
mind, has been the real secret of the unnatural events
which have disturbed you. You perceive, as I told
you, the pure air of the country has been in the last
degree beneficial. You have had no dreadful visions.
Your imagination has conjured up no terrible phantoms.
Henceforth, I doubt not that you will be entirely
free from annoyance. The privilege which your
love so generously gives me, of protecting you for the
future, with the sacred rights of a husband, while it
makes my happiness complete, will make your peace
secure. And shall we not both of us, dear Marie, be
eminently happy? Need I repeat to you the assurance
that I shall live mostly for this object? Need I
repeat the asseverations of a love which you should
by this time sufficiently understand, and your faith in
which prompts you now so graciously to consent to my
prayers and desire? You have made me happy by
this consent. Oh! dearest Marie, return soon to the
city, that our marriage may no longer be delayed.

[figure description] Page 168.[end figure description]

My sister, who has just brought me your precious billet,
will bring you this. Let me entreat you, if your
health and composure be sufficiently restored, to take
advantage of her companionship, and return with her.”

Such was the tenor of the letter. I have only
given such portions of it as were written with an
object other than that simply of addressing the affections
and sensibilities of his betrothed. He designed
much of the preceding for other eyes than those of
Marie, and Madame de Chateauneuve had her instructions,
which were to be conveyed to the former, so to
dispose of the letter as that it should be quite accessible
to all or any of the servants. She was also to be
counselled to let several days elapse, after receiving it,
before she offered to act on its chief suggestion by
returning to the city.

“We must allow the enemy sufficient time. You
will perceive, William, that much depends upon our
being able to compel the ghost to reappear. We must
fully convict him.”

I thought he elaborated too much. I said so.

“You surely have sufficient evidence for this purpose
already—the secret door and passage—the mask
and death—the disguise of the Egyptian—”

“This is the too common error. People are too
apt to fire the train before they are quite sure that
the enemy is decidedly over the mine. Most failures
come from precipitance, and the feeble eagerness of
the parties. In all cases, particularly of this sort, the
proper rule is `to mak' sicker'—to guard against
every possibility of failure—to leave no contingency

[figure description] Page 169.[end figure description]

unprovided for—to leave to the enemy no aperture
for evasion. It is scarcely possible so to secure any
game, where you contend against great ingenuity
working in secret. That we have so far succeeded, is
due entirely to the fact that we have worked in secret;
and that our first move was utterly to disarm the suspicion
that we worked at all. In dealing with an
imagination so vivid as that of Marie's, a nervous system
so susceptible, a spiritual mood whose native
tendency, earnest and enthusiastic, is to religion, we
are particularly required to meet every point of evasion
which an ingenious and subtle fancy might, by
possibility, suggest. Superstition, once in full possession
of the imagination, utterly possesses the understanding,
and precludes reason from entering at all;
and it is surprising, when thus possessed, how ingenious
it becomes in keeping itself in possession. Do
you not see that, if I use only the proofs which we
now have, we prove nothing really against the criminal:
we show that she has been deceived and deluded,
but do not show by whom; and nothing has been done
to drive this secret and powerful enemy from her
councils, where he has indirectly ruled for possibly
fifteen years—ever since her childhood? Besides,
my dear fellow, what should prevent the ingenious
superstition, and even the ingenious affection of Marie,
from saying: `Ah! Frederick loves me, and would
wish to cure me of my fears, to cure me for himself.
He has provided this death-mask—he has placed this
costume of the Egyptian here—he—' Who will
prove that we did not put them there?”

[figure description] Page 170.[end figure description]

“But she cannot, by any conjecture, charge you
with the creation of this secret passage!”

“No! But she may possibly reason thus in respect
to this secret passage, still under the bias of a superstition
which is in full possession, and tenacious of its
hold: `Old houses, Frederick himself has told me,
are not unfrequently thus provided with secret passages.
He has suspected the presence of one in my
house, which is one of the oldest of the old city; one
of the most massive, and particularly susceptible of
use in this manner. His conjecture has been verified
by his search. But what then? This proves nothing
against the spectre, unless you can show that, because
a ghost is independent of such aids, he will scorn to
appear in a dwelling which offers him such unnecessary
facilities.' No doubt all this sort of reasoning is false;
but it is natural in all such cases. If the heart of
man is desperately wicked, the head is quite as desperately
ingenious; and it is by sophistications wholly
that superstitions can work upon cultivated minds.
With the ignorant the case is otherwise. The instincts
serve, and no argument is needed to prevail over the
understanding; but with the intellectual and accomplished,
subtleties, engendered by the mind—by education
itself—take the place of common sense; and a
false philosophy will clothe itself in the garments of
an angel of light—a Gabriel in golden armor, seemingly
impenetrable to any thrust from the Ithuriel
spear skepticism. I have thought of all that is needful,
I assure you, to make my case conclusive, and
perfectly to reach the convictions of Marie; I must

[figure description] Page 171.[end figure description]

take physical hold upon the ghost—I must shake the
supernatural out of him—must take him, as Dunstan
took the devil, fairly by the proboscis, and so tweak
it as to make him roar like any ordinary mortal!
And I will do it, be sure, with sufficient unction, as
soon as I have a chance!”

“Well, if you will suffer me, I shall be pleased to
be present at the operation. This taking a ghost by
the nose, will be something of a novelty in our country.
But when did you get the letter from Madame de
Berniere, to which yours is the answer?”

“I have received no such letter. I expressly cautioned
Marie not to write. Nor is my letter so much
meant for her perusal, as for that of the ghost. That
I have assumed so much, in writing as I have written,
will be forgiven by Marie in consideration of the circumstances.
On this head, I think she properly understands
me; I have taken particular pains, in our conversations
before she went, that she should do so. Of
course, it is understood that her tacit acquiescence in
what I have written binds her to nothing. It is understood
that my proceeding is one designed for her
extrication, for her freedom only from the ghost, and
not her bondage to myself. It will be quite time to
discuss the latter subject, when we have settled the
former. But I have no fears of the result if I once
succeed in my discoveries, and succeed in satisfying
her. I have no doubt that the process of tweaking
the nose of the ghost will be conclusive in respect to
my claims to the hand of Marie.”

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