XIX
A KNOT OF CRAPE
I was prepared for some change in the appearance of my young hostesses,but not for so great a one as I saw on entering the dining-room thatmemorable morning. The blinds, which were always half closed, were nowwide open, and under the cheerful influence of the light which was thusallowed to enter, the table and all its appointments had a much lessdreary look than before. Behind the urn sat Miss Knollys, with a smileon her lips, and in the window William stood whistling a cheerful air,unrebuked. Lucetta was not present, but to my great astonishment shepresently walked in with her hands laden with sprays of morning-glory,which she flung down in the centre of the board. It was the first time Ihad seen any attempt made by any of them to lighten the sombreness oftheir surroundings, and it was also the first time I had seen the threetogether.
I was more disconcerted by this simple show of improved spirits than Ilike to acknowledge. In the first place, they were natural and notforced; and, secondly, they were to all appearance unconscious.
They were not marked enough to show relief, and in Lucetta especiallydid not serve to hide the underlying melancholy of a disappointed girl,yet it was not what I expected from my supposed experiences of thenight, and led me to answer a little warily when, with a frank laugh,Loreen exclaimed:
"So you have lost your character as a practical woman, Miss Butterworth?Hannah tells me you were the victim of a ghostly visit last night."
"Hannah gossips unmercifully," was my cautious and somewhat peevishreply. "If I chose to dream that I was locked into my room by someerratic spectre, I cannot see why she should take the confession of myfolly out of my mouth. I was going to relate the fact myself, with allthe accompaniments of rushing steps and wild and unearthly cries whichare expected by the listeners to a veritable ghost story. But now I havesimply to defend myself from a charge of credulity. It's too bad, MissKnollys, much too bad. I did not come to a haunted house for this."
My manner, rather than my words, seemed to completely deceive them.Perhaps it deceived myself, for I began to feel a loss of the depressionwhich had weighed upon me ever since that scream rang in my ears atmidnight. It disappeared still further when Lucetta said:
"If your ramblings through the old rooms on this floor were the occasionof this nightmare, you must be prepared for a recurrence of the sameto-night, for I am going to take you through the upper rooms myself thismorning. Isn't that the programme, Loreen? Or have you changed your mindand planned a drive for Miss Butterworth?"
"She shall do both," Loreen answered. "When she is tired of trampingthrough dusty chambers and examining the decayed remnants of oldfurniture which encumber them, William stands ready to drive her overthe hills, where she will find views well worth her attention."
"Thank you," said I. "It is a pleasant prospect." But inwardly I utteredanything but thanks; rather asked myself if I had not played the part ofa fool in ascribing so much importance to the events of the past night,and decided almost without an argument that I had.
However, beliefs die hard in a mind like mine, and though I was ready toconsider that an inflamed imagination may often carry us beyond thebounds of fact and even into the realm of fancy and misconception, I yetwas not ready to give up my suspicions altogether, or to acknowledgethat I had no foundation for the fear that something uncanny if notawful had taken place under this roof the night before. The verynaturalness I observed in this hitherto restrained trio might be theresult of the removal of some great strain, and if that was thecase--Ah, well, alertness is the motto of the truly wise. It is whenvigilance sleeps that the enemy gains the victory. I would not letmyself be deceived even at the cost of a little ridicule. AmeliaButterworth was still awake, even under a semblance of well-laidsuspicion.
My footsteps were not dogged after this as they had hitherto been in mymovements about the house. I was allowed to go and come and even tostray into the second long corridor, without any other let than my owndiscretion and good breeding. Lucetta joined me, to be sure, after awhile, but only as guide and companion. She took me into rooms I forgotthe next minute, and into others I remember to this day as quaintmemorials of a past ever and always interesting to me. We ransacked thehouse, yet after all was over and I sat down to rest in my own room, twoformidable questions rose in my mind for which I found no satisfactoryanswer. Why, with so many more or less attractive bedchambers at theircommand, had they chosen to put me into a hole, where the very flooringwas unsafe, and the outlook the most dismal that could be imagined? andwhy, in all our peregrinations in and out of rooms, had we always passedone door without entering? She had said that it was William's--asufficient explanation, if true, and I have no doubt it was,--but thechange of countenance with which she passed it and the sudden lighteningof her tread (so instinctive that she was totally unconscious of it)marked that door as one it would be my duty to enter if fate should yetgive me the opportunity. That it was the one in communication with theFlower Parlor I felt satisfied, but in order to make assurance doublysure I resolved upon a tour through the shrubbery outside, that I mightcompare the location of the window having the chipped blind with that ofthis room, which was, as well as I could calculate, the third from therear on the left-hand side.
When, therefore, William called up to know if I was ready for my drive,I answered back that I found myself very tired and would be glad toexchange the pleasure he offered, for a visit to the stables.
This, as I expected, caused considerable comment and some disturbance.They wanted me to repeat my experience of the day before and spend twoif not more hours of the morning out of the house. But I did not mean togratify them. Indeed I felt that my duty held me to the house, and wasso persistent in my wishes, or rather in my declaration of them, thatall opposition had to give way, even in the stubborn William.
"I thought you had a dread of dogs," was the final remark with which heendeavored to turn me aside from my purpose. "I have three in the barnand two in the stable, and they make a great fuss when I come around, Iassure you."
"Then they will have enough to do without noticing me," said I, with abrazen assumption of courage sufficiently surprising if I had had anyreal intention of invading a place so guarded. But I had not. I no moremeant to enter the stables than to jump off the housetop, but it wasnecessary that I should start for them and make the start from the leftwing of the house.
How I managed the intractable William and led him as I did from bush tobush and shrub to shrub, up and down the length of that interminablefacade of the left wing, would make an interesting story in itself. Thecuriosity I showed in plants, even such plants as had survived theneglect that had made a wilderness of this old-time garden; theindifference which, contrary to all my habits, I persisted inmanifesting to every inconvenience I encountered in the way ofstraightforward walking to any object I set my fancy upon examining; theknowledge I exhibited, and the interest which I took it for granted hefelt in all I discovered and all I imparted to him, would form the basisof a farce of no ordinary merit had it not had its birth in interestsand intents bordering on the tragic.
A row of bushes of various species ran along the wall and covered insome instances the lower ledges of the first row of windows. As I madefor a certain shrub which I had observed growing near what I supposed tobe the casement from whose blind I had chipped a small sliver, I allowedmy enthusiasm to bubble over, in my evident desire to display myerudition.
"This," said I, "is, without any doubt at all, a stunted but undoubtedspecimen of that rare tree found seldom north of the thirtieth degree,the _Magnolia grandiflora_. I have never seen it but once before, andthat was in the botanical gardens in Washington. Note its leaves. Youhave noted its flowers, smaller undoubtedly than they should be--butthen you must acknowledge it has been in a measure neglected--are theynot fine?"
Here I pulled a branch down which interfered with my view of the window.There was no chip visible in the blinds thus discovered. Seeing this, Ilet the branch go. "But the oddest feature of this tree and on
e withwhich you are perhaps not acquainted" (I wonder if anybody is?) "is thatit will not grow within twenty feet of any plant which scatters pollen.See for yourself. This next shrub bears no flower" (I was moving alongthe wall), "nor this." I drew down a branch as I spoke, caught sight ofthe mark I was looking for, and let the bough spring back. I had foundthe window I wanted.
His grunts and groans during all this formed a running accompanimentwhich would have afforded me great secret amusement had my purpose beenless serious. As it was, I could pay but little attention to him,especially after I had stepped back far enough to take a glance at thewindow over the one I had just located as that of the Flower Parlor. Itwas, as I expected, the third one from the rear corner; but it was notthis fact which gave me a thrill of feeling so strong that I have neverhad harder work to preserve my equanimity. _It was the knot of blackcrape with which the shutters were tied together._
Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth Page 20
