"After what happened that first night I feel that anything is possible.

I am _sure_ my dear father's spirit was there." "I am inclined to think so too.

But as to this instance I am not so sure that what you saw was your dead friend.

Unless--" "Unless ?" repeated Helen questioningly.
"You told me that during her lifetime you were on the best terms of friendship with this poor lady, and yet that on her dead face there was a look of hatred?
How do you account for that ?" He looked questioningly, penetratingly, into the girl's distressed face.
Sir Lyon had always prided himself on his self-command and perfect self-control, and yet he would have given almost anything for a really honest answer to this question.
And poor Helen did give him an honest answer--honest, that is, from her own simple-hearted point of view.

"I can't account for it!" she exclaimed.