A few days after this, Virginia and her curly-haired cavalier went out riding on Brockley meadows, where she tore her habit so badly in getting through a hedge, that, on her return home, she made up her mind to go up by the back staircase so as not to be seen.  As she was running past the Tapestry¹ Chamber², the door of which happened to be open, she fancied she saw some one inside, and thinking it was her mother’s maid, who sometimes used to bring her work there, looked in to ask her to mend her habit.  To her immense surprise, however, it was the Canterville Ghost himself!  He was sitting by the window, watching the ruined gold of the yellowing trees fly through the air, and the red leaves dancing madly down the long avenue.  His head was leaning on his hand, and his whole attitude was one of extreme depression.  Indeed, so forlorn, and so much out of repair did he look, that little Virginia, whose first idea had been to run away and lock herself in her room, was filled with pity, and determined³ to try and comfort him.  So light was her footfall, and so deep his melancholy⁴, that he was not aware of her presence till she spoke⁵ to him.