He...stakes this ring；
And would so， had it been a carbuncle Of Ph渂us' wheel； and might so safely， had it Been all the worth of his car.
Cymbeline.
Hugh， of course， had an immediate attack of jealousy. Wishing to show it in one quarter， and hide it in every other， he carefully abstained from looking once in the direction of Euphra； while， throughout the dinner， he spoke to every one else as often as there was the smallest pretext for doing so. To enable himself to keep this up， he drank wine freely. As he was in general very moderate， by the time the ladies rose， it had begun to affect his brain. It was not half so potent， however， in its influences， as the parting glance which Euphra succeeded at last， as she left the room， in sending through his eyes to his heart.
Hugh sat down to the table again， with a quieter tongue， but a busier brain. He drank still， without thinking of the consequences.
A strong will kept him from showing any signs of intoxication， but he was certainly nearer to that state than he had ever been in his life before.
The Bohemian started the new subject which generally follows the ladies' departure.
"How long is it since Arnstead was first said to be haunted， Mr. Arnold？"
"Haunted！ Herr von Funkelstein？ I am at a loss to understand you，"replied Mr. Arnold， who resented any such allusion， being subversive of the honour of his house， almost as much as if it had been depreciative of his own.
"I beg your pardon， Mr. Arnold. I thought it was an open subject of remark.""So it is，" said Hugh； "every one knows that."Mr. Arnold was struck dumb with indignation. Before he had recovered himself sufficiently to know what to say， the conversation between the other two had assumed a form to which his late experiences inclined him to listen with some degree of interest.
But， his pride sternly forbidding him to join in it， he sat sipping his wine in careless sublimity.
"You have seen it yourself， then？" said the Bohemian.
"I did not say that，" answered Hugh. "But I heard one of the maids say once--when--"He paused.
This hesitation of his witnessed against him afterwards， in Mr. Arnold's judgment. But he took no notice now.--Hugh ended tamely enough：
"Why， it is commonly reported amongst the servants.""With a blue light？--Such as we saw that night from the library window， I suppose.""I did not say that，" answered Hugh. "Besides， it was nothing of the sort you saw from the library. It was only the moon. But--"He paused again. Von Funkelstein saw the condition he was in， and pressed him.
"You know something more， Mr. Sutherland."
Hugh hesitated again， but only for a moment.
"Well， then，" he said， "I have seen the spectre myself， walking in her white grave-clothes， in the Ghost's Avenue--ha！ ha！"Funkelstein looked anxious.
"Were you frightened？" said he.
"Frightened！" repeated Hugh， in a tone of the greatest contempt. "Iam of Don Juan's opinion with regard to such gentry.""What is that？"
"'That soul and body， on the whole， Are odds against a disembodied soul.'""Bravo！" cried the count. "You despise all these tales about Lady Euphrasia， wandering about the house with a death-candle in her hand， looking everywhere about as if she had lost something， and couldn't find it？""Pooh！ pooh！ I wish I could meet her！"
"Then you don't believe a word of it？"
"I don't say that. There would be less of courage than boasting in talking so， if I did not believe a word of it.""Then you do believe it？"
But Hugh was too much of a Scotchman to give a hasty opinion， or rather a direct answer--even when half-tipsy； especially when such was evidently desired. He only shook and nodded his head at the same moment.
"Do you really mean you would meet her if you could？""I do."
"Then， if all tales are true， you may， without much difficulty. For the coachman told me only to-day， that you may see her light in the window of that room almost any night， towards midnight. He told me， too (for I made quite a friend of him to-day， on purpose to hear his tales)， that one of the maids， who left the other day， told the groom--and he told the coachman--that she had once heard talking；and， peeping through the key-hole of a door that led into that part of the old house， saw a figure， dressed exactly like the picture of Lady Euphrasia， wandering up and down， wringing her hands and beating her breast， as if she were in terrible trouble. She had a light in her hand which burned awfully blue， and her face was the face of a corpse， with pale-green spots.""You think to frighten me， Funkelstein， and make me tremble at what I said a minute ago. Instead of repeating that. I say now： I will sleep in Lady Euphrasia's room this night， if you like.""I lay you a hundred guineas you won't！" cried the Bohemian.
"Done！" said Hugh， offering him his hand. Funkelstein took it； and so the bet was committed to the decision of courage.
"Well， gentlemen，" interposed Mr. Arnold at last， "you might have left a corner for me somewhere. Without my permission you will hardly settle your wager.""I beg your pardon， Mr. Arnold，" said Funkelstein. "We got rather excited over it， and forgot our manners. But I am quite willing to give it up， if Mr. Sutherland will.""Not I，" said Hugh；--"that is， of course， if Mr. Arnold has no objection.""Of course not. My house， ghost and all， is at your service， gentlemen，" responded Mr. Arnold， rising.
They went to the drawing-room. Mr. Arnold， strange to say， was in a good humour. He walked up to Mrs. Elton， and said：
"These wicked men have been betting， Mrs. Elton.""I am surprised they should be so silly，" said she， with a smile， taking it as a joke.
"What have they been betting about？" said Euphra， coming up to her uncle.
"Herr von Funkelstein has laid a hundred guineas that Mr. Sutherland will not sleep in Lady Euphrasia's room to-night."Euphra turned pale.
"By sleep I suppose you mean spend the night？" said Hugh to Funkelstein. "I cannot be certain of sleeping， you know.""Of course， I mean that，" answered the other； and， turning to Euphrasia， continued：
