COPYRIGHT INFO

      The Third Ghost Story Megapack is copyright © 2013 by Wildside Press LLC. All rights reserved. For more information, contact the publisher through wildsidepress.com or the Wildside Press Forums.

      NOTE

      Language has not been updated for “political correctness” and some stories may contain language which some might find offensive. Please note that languages change and evolve, and what was acceptable in the time of original publication may prove offensive to some today.

      A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER

      Over the last two years, our “Megapack” series of ebook anthologies has proved to be one of our most popular endeavors. (Maybe it helps that we sometimes offer them as free premiums to our email list!) One question we keep getting asked is, “Who’s the editor?”

      The Megapacks (except where specifically credited) are a group effort. Everyone at Wildside works on them. This includes John Betancourt, Carla Coupe, Steve Coupe, Sam Cooper, Bonner Menking, Colin Azariah-Kribbs, A.E. Warren, and many of Wildside’s authors…who often suggest stories to include (and not just their own!).

      A NOTE FOR OUR KINDLE READERS

      The Kindle versions of our Megapacks employ active tables of contents for easy navigation…please look for one before writing reviews on Amazon that complain about the lack! (They are sometimes at the ends of ebooks, depending on your reader.)

      RECOMMEND A FAVORITE STORY?

      Do you know a great classic science fiction story, or have a favorite author whom you believe is perfect for the Megapack series? We’d love your suggestions! You can post them on our message board at http://movies.ning.com/forum (there is an area for Wildside Press comments).

      Note: we only consider stories that have already been professionally published. This is not a market for new works.

      TYPOS

      Unfortunately, as hard as we try, a few typos do slip through. We update our ebooks periodically, so make sure you have the current version (or download a fresh copy if it’s been sitting in your ebook reader for months.) It may have already been updated.

      If you spot a new typo, please let us know. We’ll fix it for everyone. You can email the publisher at [email protected] or use the message boards above.

      —John Betancourt

      Publisher, Wildside Press LLC

      www.wildsidepress.com

      THE MEGAPACK SERIES

      The Adventure Megapack

      The Christmas Megapack

      The Second Christmas Megapack

      The Cowboy Megapack

      The Craig Kennedy Scientific Detective Megapack

      The Cthulhu Mythos Megapack

      The Detective Megapack

      The Dan Carter, Cub Scout Megapack

      The Ghost Story Megapack

      The Second Ghost Story Megapack

      The Third Ghost Story Megapack

      The Horror Megapack

      The Macabre Megapack

      The Martian Megapack

      The Military Megapack

      The Mummy Megapack

      The Mystery Megapack

      The Science Fiction Megapack

      The Second Science Fiction Megapack

      The Third Science Fiction Megapack

      The Fourth Science Fiction Megapack

      The Fifth Science Fiction Megapack

      The Sixth Science Fiction Megapack

      The Penny Parker Megapack

      The Pinocchio Megapack

      The Pulp Fiction Megapack

      The Rover Boys Megapack

      The Steampunk Megapack

      The Tom Corbett, Space Cadet Megapack

      The Tom Swift Megapack

      The Vampire Megapack

      The Victorian Mystery Megapack

      The Werewolf Megapack

      The Western Megapack

      The Wizard of Oz Megapack

      AUTHOR MEGAPACKS

      The B.M. Bower Megapa pack

      The E.F. Benson Megapack

      The Second E.F. Benson Megapack

      The Wilkie Collins Megapack

      The Philip K. Dick Megapack

      The Randall Garrett Megapack

      The Second Randall Garrett Megapack

      The G.A. Henty Megapack

      The M.R. James Megapack

      The Murray Leinster Megapack

      The Second Murray Leinster Megapack

      The Andre Norton Megapack

      The H. Beam Piper Megapack

      The Rafael Sabatini Megapack

      THE DEAD AND THE COUNTESS, by Gertrude Atherton

      It was an old cemetery, and they had been long dead. Those who died nowadays were put in the new burying-place on the hill, close to the Bois d’Amour and within sound of the bells that called the living to mass. But the little church where the mass was celebrated stood faithfully beside the older dead; a new church, indeed, had not been built in that forgotten corner of Finisterre for centuries, not since the calvary on its pile of stones had been raised in the tiny square, surrounded then, as now, perhaps, by gray naked cottages; not since the castle with its round tower, down on the river, had been erected for the Counts of Croisac. But the stone walls enclosing that ancient cemetery had been kept in good repair, and there were no weeds within, nor toppling headstones. It looked cold and gray and desolate, like all the cemeteries of Brittany, but it was made hideous neither by tawdry gew-gaws nor the license of time.

      And sometimes it was close to a picture of early beauty. When the village celebrated its yearly pardon, a great procession came out of the church—priests in glittering robes, young men in their gala costume of black and silver, holding flashing standards aloft, and many maidens in flapping white head-dress and collar, black frocks and aprons flaunting with ribbons and lace. They marched, chanting, down the road beside the wall of the cemetery, where lay the generations that in their day had held the banners and chanted the service of the pardon. For the dead were peasants and priests—the Croisacs had their burying-place in a hollow of the hills behind the castle—old men and women who had wept and died for the fishermen that had gone to the grande pêche and returned no more, and now and again a child, slept there. Those who walked past the dead at the pardon, or after the marriage ceremony, or took part in any one of the minor religious festivals with which the Catholic village enlivens its existence—all, young and old, looked grave and sad. For the women from childhood know that their lot is to wait and dread and weep, and the men that the ocean is treacherous and cruel, but that bread can be wrung from no other master.

      Therefore the living have little sympathy for the dead who have laid down their crushing burden; and the dead under their stones slumber contentedly enough. There is no envy among them for the young who wander at evening and pledge their troth in the Bois d’Amour, only pity for the groups of women who wash their linen in the creek that flows to the river. They look like pictures in the green quiet book of nature, these women, in their glistening white head-gear and deep