is a sign.'
The old man then drew back slowly, and disappeared behind the curtains at the foot of the bed, and I saw no more of him during the rest of that odious night.
So long as this apparition remained before me, I never doubted its being supernatural. I don't think mortal ever suffered horror more intense. My very hair was dripping with a cold moisture. For some seconds I hardly knew where I was. But soon a reaction came, and I felt convinced that the apparition was a living man. It was no process of reason or philosophy, but simply I became persuaded of it, and something like rage overcame my terrors.
Chapter XIII
THE PONY CARRIAGE
So soon as daylight came, I made a swift cold water toilet, and got out into the open air, with a solemn resolution to see the hated interior of that bed-room no more. When I met Lord Chelford in his early walk that morning, I'm sure I looked myself like a ghost—at all events, very wild and seedy—for he asked me, more seriously than usual, how I was; and I think I would have told him the story of my adventure, despite the secret ridicule with which, I fancied, he would receive it, had it not been for a certain insurmountable disgust and horror which held me tongue-tied upon the affair.
I told him, however, that I had dreamed dreams, and was restless and uncomfortable in my present berth, and begged his interest with the housekeeper to have my quarters changed to the lower storey—quite resolved to remove to the 'Brandon Arms,' rather than encounter another such night as I had passed.
Stanley Lake did not appear that day; Wylder was glowering and abstracted—worse company than usual; and Rachel seemed to have quite passed from his recollection.
While Rachel Lake was, as usual, busy in her little garden that day, Lord Chelford, on his way to the town, by the pretty mill-road, took off his hat to her with a smiling salutation, and leaning on the paling, he said—
'I often wonder how you make your flowers grow here—you have so little sun among the trees—and yet, it is so pretty and flowery; it remains in my memory as if the sun were always shining specially on this little garden.'
Miss Lake laughed.
'I am very proud of it. They try not to blow, but I never let them alone till they do. See all my watering-pots, and pruning-scissors, my sticks, and bass-mat, and glass covers. Skill and industry conquer churlish nature—and this is my Versailles.'
'I don't believe in those sticks, and scissors, and watering-pots. You won't tell your secret; but I'm sure it's an influence—you smile and whisper to them.'
She smiled—without raising her eyes—on the flower she was tying up; and, indeed, it was such a smile as must have made it happy—and she said, gaily—
'You forget that Lord Chelford passes this way sometimes, and shines upon them, too.'
'No, he's a dull, earthly dog; and if he shines here, it is only in reflected light'
'Margery, child, fetch me the scissors.'
And a hobble-de-hoy of a girl, with round eyes, and a long white-apron, and bare arms, came down the little walk, and—eyeing the peer with an awful curiosity—presented the shears to the charming Atropos, who clipped off the withered blossoms that had bloomed their hour, and were to cumber the stalk no more.
'Now, you see what art may do; how passée this creature was till I made her toilet, and how wonderfully the poor old beauty looks now,' and she glanced complacently at the plant she had just trimmed.
'Well, it is young again and beautiful; but no—I have no faith in the scissors; I still believe in the influence—from the tips of your fingers, your looks, and tones. Flowers, like fairies, have their favourites, whom they smile on and obey; and I think this is a haunted glen—trees, flowers, all have an intelligence and a feeling—and I am sure you see wonderful things, by moonlight, from your window.'
With a strange meaning echo, those words returned to her afterwards—'I'm sure you see wonderful things, by moonlight, from your window.'
But no matter; the winged words—making pleasant music—flew pleasantly away, now among transparent leaves and glimmering sun; by-and-by, in moonlight, they will return to the casement piping the same tune, in ghostly tones.
And as they chatted in this strain, Rachel paused on a sudden, with upraised hand, listening pleasantly.
'I hear the pony-carriage; Dorcas is coming,' she said.
And the tinkle of tiny wheels, coming down the road, was audible.
'There's a pleasant sense of adventure, too, in the midst of your seclusion. Sudden arrivals and passing pilgrims, like me, leaning over the paling, and refreshed by the glimpse the rogue steals of this charming oratory. Yes; here comes the fair Brunnisende.'
And he made his salutation. Miss Brandon smiled from under her gipsy-hat very pleasantly for her.
'Will you come with me for a drive, Radie?' she asked.
'Yes, dear—delighted. Margery, bring my gloves and cloak.' And she unpinned the faded silk shawl that did duty in the garden, and drew off her gauntlets, and showed her pretty hands; and Margery popped her cloak on her shoulders, and the young lady pulled on her gloves. All ready in a moment, like a young lady of energy; and chatting merrily she sat down beside her cousin, who held the reins. As there were no more gates to open, Miss Brandon dismissed the servant, who stood at the ponies' heads, and who, touching his hat with his white glove, received his congé, and strode with willing steps up the road.
'Will you take me for your footman as far as the town?' asked Lord Chelford; so, with permission, up he jumped behind, and away they whirled, close over the ground, on toy wheels ringing merrily on the shingle, he leaning over the back and chatting pleasantly with the young ladies as they drove on.
They drew up at the Brandon Arms, and little girls courtesied at doors, and householders peeped from their windows, not standing close to the panes, but respectfully back, at the great lady and the nobleman, who was now taking his leave.
And next they pulled up at that official rendezvous, with white-washed front—and 'post-office,' in white letters on a brown board over its door, and its black, hinged window-pane, through which Mr. Driver—or, in his absence, Miss Anne Driver—answered questions, and transacted affairs officially.
In the rear of this establishment were kept some dogs of Lawyer Larkin's; and just as the ladies arrived, that person emerged, looking overpoweringly gentlemanlike, in a white hat, gray paletot, lavender trowsers, and white riding gloves. He was in a righteous and dignified way pleased to present himself in so becoming a costume, and moreover in good company, for Stanley Lake was going with him to Dutton for a day's sport, which neither of them cared for. But Stanley hoped to pump the attorney, and the attorney, I'm afraid, liked being associated with the fashionable captain; and so they were each pleased in the way that suited them.
The attorney, being long as well as lank, had to stoop under the doorway, but drew himself up handsomely on coming out, and assumed his easy, high-bred style, which, although he was not aware of it, was very nearly insupportable, and smiled very engagingly, and meant to talk a little about the weather;
