The Ghost of Guir House

"No wonder Dorothy said that she was afraid of them," Paul reflected;

"their portraits alone would drive me mad." He took another long

searching look; and as his eyes grew accustomed to the faded

coloring, he observed how cleverly the work had been done. Evidently

the pictures had been painted from life, though under what

circumstances Henley could never imagine. The faces were all those of

a feminine type; they were of young women, apparently but little more

than girls, and each with this life-like, though dreadful expression.

As Paul stood marveling and wondering, a new interest seized him. At

first he could not quite understand what it was, but it became

stronger and better defined, he knew, for he recognized one of the

faces. Yes, there could be no mistake about it; the picture on the

left was a portrait of Dorothy herself. Henley rubbed his eyes, and

looked again and again; he could not believe their evidence, but they

had not deceived him. He tried to make himself believe that it was

the likeness of some ancestor, to whom she had a strange resemblance;

but, despite the look of pain, it could be no other than Dorothy, and

indeed this very expression helped to heighten the likeness, for had

he not seen a similar expression at the breakfast table? The longer

he gazed at it, the more convinced he became that this was a portrait

of Miss Guir. At last, thoroughly mystified, he turned away,

intending to leave this grewsome chamber of horrors forever; but now

for the first time the heap of rubbish in the center of the floor

engaged his attention. Taking his hinge, he stirred up the mass; some

shreds of cloth, which fell to pieces on being touched, and beneath

them some human bones. This was all, but it was enough; and

overwhelmed with horror, Henley rushed out of the room, bounding

through the aperture he had made in the wall, and up the rickety

stairs into his own bed chamber. He carefully closed the scuttle,

heaped some firewood upon it, shut the closet door and fastened it

securely from without. He then built up a roaring fire, lit another

candle, and sat meditating over what he had seen until the dawn of

day. When the light of the sun came streaming into his room, he

undressed and went to bed.

Whatever may have been Mr. Henley's suspicions concerning the

implication of the Guirs with the crime which he could no longer

doubt had been committed in their house, they were promptly

dispelled, so far as the young lady was concerned, upon meeting

Dorothy at the breakfast table. Her innocent though serious face was

a direct rebuke to any distrust he might have entertained; and he

even doubted if she had any knowledge of the state of things he had

discovered in the vault. This, of course, only added to the mystery;

nor was Mr. Henley's self-esteem fortified by the memory of how

unscrupulously he had become the guest of these people, and of how

equivocal had been his treatment of their hospitality. All this,

however, related to the past, and, as he felt, could not be now

undone. He must act to the best of his ability in the extraordinary

position in which he found himself.