I was not much of a drag, for when I could not be with the others, I
had old friends, and the museum was as dear to me as ever, in those
recesses that had been the paradise of my youth; but there was a
good deal in which we could all share, and as usual they were all
kind consideration.
Anne overflowed with minute remembrances of her old home, and
Clarence so basked in her sunshine that it began to strike me that
here might be the solution of all the perplexities especially after
the first evening, when he had shown his strange discovery to Mr.
Fordyce, who simply laughed and said we need not trouble ourselves
about it. Illegible was it? He was heartily glad to hear that it
was. Even otherwise, forty years' possession was quite enough, and
then he pointed to the grate, and said that was the best place for
such things. There was no fire, but Clarence could hardly rescue
the paper from being torn up.
As to the ghost, he knew much less than his daughter Ellen had done.
He said his old aunt had some stories about Chantry House being
haunted, and had thought it incumbent on her to hate the Winslows,
but he had thought it all nonsense, and such stories were much
better forgotten. 'Would he not see if there were any letters?'
There might be, perhaps in the solicitor's office at Bath, but if he
ever got hold of them, he should certainly burn them.
Pages:
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366