The Visits of Elizabeth | Page 4

old thing I thought was the mother turns out to be his wife!
Imagine! years and years older than him! Jane Roose said he had to marry her because her husband died; but I think that the most absurd reason I ever heard, don't you? Lots of people's husbands die, and they don't have to get married off again at once--so why should that ugly old thing, specially when there are such heaps of nice girls about?
[Sidenote: A Man of Honour]
Jane Roose said it was so honourable of him, but I call it crazy--unless, perhaps, he was a great friend of the husband's, who made him promise when he was dying, and he did not like to break his word. How he must have hated it! I wonder if he had ever met her before, or if the husband made him take her, a pig in a poke. I expect that was it, because he never could have done it if he had ever seen her.
I can't think why he is so cross with me, but I am sorry, as he is such a nice man. Now I am sleepy, and it is frightfully late, so I suppose I had better get into bed. Agnès came up, and has been fussing about for the last hour. Best love from your affectionate daughter,
Elizabeth.
Nazeby Hall, 30th July.
Dearest Mamma,--Yesterday was the best day we have had yet; the nice men had not to field at all, and the stupid cricket was over at four o'clock, and so we went into the gardens and lay in hammocks, and Miss La Touche had such nice shoes on, but her ankles are thick.
[Sidenote: Ghosts in the Corridor]
The Rooses told me it wasn't "quite nice" for girls to loll in hammocks (and they sat on chairs)--that you could only do it when you are married; but I believe it is because they don't have pretty enough petticoats. Anyway, Lady Doraine and that horrid Smith creature made a place for me in the empty hammock between them, and, as I knew my "frillies" were all right, I hammocked too, and it was lovely. Lord Valmond and Mr. Wertz were lying near, and they said agreeable things, at least I suppose so, because both of them--Lady Doraine and Mrs. Smith--looked purry-purry-puss-puss. They asked me why I was so sleepy, and I said because I had not slept well the last night--that I was sure the house was haunted. And so they all screamed at me, "Why?" and so I told them, what was really true, that in the night I heard a noise of stealthy footsteps, and as I was not frightened I determined to see what it was, so I got up--Agnès sleeps in the dressing-room, but, of course, she never wakes--I opened the door and peeped out into the corridor. There are only two rooms beyond mine towards the end, round the corner, and it is dimly lit all night. Well, I distinctly saw a very tall grey figure disappear round the bend of the hall! When I got thus far every one dropped their books and listened with rapt attention, and I could see them exchanging looks, so I am sure they know it is haunted, and were trying to keep it from me. I asked Mrs. Smith if she had seen or heard anything, because she sleeps in one of the rooms. She looked perfectly green, but she said she had not heard a sound, and had slept like a top, and that I must have dreamt it.
Then Lady Doraine and every one talked at once, and Lord Valmond asked did any one know if the London evening papers had come. But I was not going to be put off like that, so I just said, "I know you all know it is haunted and are putting me off because you think I'll be frightened; but I assure you I am not, and if I hear the noise again I am going to rush out and see the ghost close."
Then every one looked simply ahuri. So I mean to get the ghost story out of Sir Trevor to-night after dinner--I had not a chance yesterday--as I am sure it is interesting. Mrs. Smith looked at me as if she wanted to poison me, and I can't think why specially, can you?
Twelve p.m.--I asked Sir Trevor if the house is haunted, and he said, "God bless my soul, no!" and so I told him, and he nearly had a fit; so I know it is, but I am not a bit frightened.--Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
Nazeby Hall, Sunday.
Dearest Mamma,--Agnès and I go to Aunt Mary's by the 10:30 train to-morrow, and I am not a bit sorry, although I have enjoyed myself, and now I begin to feel