The Visits of Elizabeth | Page 4

Elizabeth!" and Sir Dennis got purple in the face, and Jane Roose
whispered, "How could you dare with his wife listening!" and every
one talked and chaffed. It was too stupid about nothing; but the
astonishing part is, that funny 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