Volume I Part 30 (1/2)

”Don't say any such thing, Scarsbrook,” said Helbeck, coming forward to support him. ”You know I don't believe in this ghost business--and never did. You saw some stranger in the park--and she pa.s.sed you too quickly for you to see where she went to. You may be sure that'll turn out to be the truth. You remember--it's a public path--anybody might be there. Just try and take that view of it--and don't fret, for your wife's sake. We'll make inquiries, and I'll come and see you to-morrow. And as for death warrants, we're all in G.o.d's care, you know--don't forget that.”

He smiled with a kindly concern and pity on the old man. But Scarsbrook shook his head.

”It wur t' Bannisdale Lady,” he repeated; ”I've often heerd on her--often--and noo I've seen her.”

”Well, to-morrow you'll be quite proud of it,” said Helbeck cheerfully.

”Come, and let me put you into the cart. I think, if we make a comfortable seat for you, you'll be fit to drive home now.”

Supported by the Squire's strong arm on one side, and his wife on the other, Scarsbrook managed to hobble down the long pa.s.sage leading to the door in the inner courtyard, where the pony cart was standing. It was evident that his perceptions were still wholly dazed. He had not recognised or spoken to anyone in the room but the Squire--not even to his old crony Mrs. Denton.

Laura drew a long breath.

”Augustina, do go to bed,” she said, going up to her stepmother--”or you'll be ill next.”

Augustina allowed herself to be led upstairs. But it was long before she would let her stepdaughter leave her. She was full of supernatural terrors and excitements, and must talk about all the former appearances of the ghost--the stories that used to be told in her childhood--the new or startling details in the old man's version, and so forth. ”What could he have meant by the light on the hand?” she said wondering. ”I never heard of that before. And she used always to be in grey; and now he says that she had a black dress from top to toe.”

”Their wardrobes are so limited--poor damp, sloppy things!” said Laura flippantly, as she brushed her stepmother's hair. ”Do you suppose this nonsense will be all over the country-side to-morrow, Augustina?”

”What do you _really_ think he saw, Laura?” cried Mrs. Fountain, wavering between doubt and belief.

”Goodness!--don't ask me.” Miss Fountain shrugged her small shoulders. ”I don't keep a family ghost.”

When at last Augustina had been settled in bed, and persuaded to take some of her sleeping medicine, Laura was bidding her good-night, when Mrs. Fountain said, ”Oh! I forgot, Laura--there was a letter brought in for you from the post-office, by Wilson this afternoon--he gave it to Mrs. Denton, and she forgot it till after dinner----”

”Of course--because it was mine,” said Laura vindictively. ”Where is it?”

”On the drawing-room chimney-piece.”

”All right. I'll go for it. But I shall be disturbing Mr. Helbeck.”

”Oh! no--it's much too late. Alan will have gone to his study.”

Miss Fountain stood a moment outside her stepmother's door, consulting her watch.

For she was anxious to get her letter, and not at all anxious to fall in with Mr. Helbeck. At least, so she would have explained herself had anyone questioned her. In fact, her wishes and intentions were in tumultuous confusion. All the time that she was waiting on Augustina, her brain, her pulse was racing. In the added touch of stiffness which she had observed in Helbeck's manner, she easily divined the result of that conversation he had no doubt held with Augustina after dinner, while she was by the river. Did he think even worse of her than he had before?

Well!--if he and Augustina could do without her, let them send her away--by all manner of means! She had her own friends, her own money, was in all respects her own mistress, and only asked to be allowed to lead her life as she pleased.

Nevertheless--as she crossed the darkness of the hall, with her candle in her hand--Laura Fountain was very near indeed to a fit of wild weeping.

During the months following her father's death, these agonies of crying had come upon her night after night--unseen by any human being. She felt now the approach of an old enemy and struggled with it. ”One mustn't have this excitement every night!” she said to herself, half mocking. ”No nerves would stand it.”

A light under the library door. Well and good. How--she wondered--did he occupy himself there, through so many solitary hours? Once or twice she had heard him come upstairs to bed, and never before one or two o'clock.

Suddenly she stood abashed. She had thrown open the drawing-room door, and the room lay before her, almost in darkness. One dim lamp still burned at the further end, and in the middle of the room stood Mr.

Helbeck, arrested in his walk to and fro, and the picture of astonishment.

Laura drew back in real discomfiture. ”Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr.

Helbeck! I had no notion that anyone was still here.”