waiting for an opportunity to do so again.
” I am sure you do.”
“There is no need for you to escort me back to the house.”
” I am forced to contradict you. There is every reason.”
” Do you think I am incapable of looking after myself?”
” I think none more capable of doing that than yourself. But as it happens I was on my way to call, and this is the most direct way to the house.”
I was silent until we came to Mount Mellyn.
Connan TreMellyn was coming from the stable.
” Hallo there, Con!” cried Peter Nansellock.
Connan TreMellyn looked at us in mild surprise, which I supposed was due to the fact that we were together. I hurried round to the back of the house.
It was not easy to sleep that night. The events of the day crowded into my mind and I saw pictures of myself and Connan TreMellyn, pictures of Alvean, of Celestine, and of myself in the woods with Peter Nansellock.
The wind was in a certain direction that night, and I could hear the waves thundering into Mellyn Cove.
In my present mood it certainly seemed that there were whispering voices down there, and that the words they said to each other were: ” Alice! Alice! Where is Alice? Alice, where are you?”
Ill
In the morning the fancies of the previous. night seemed foolish. I asked myself why so many people—including myself—wanted to make a mystery of what had happened in this house. It was an ordinary enough story.
I know what it is, I told myself. When people consider an ancient house like this, they make themselves believe it could tell some fantastic stories if it could only speak. They think of the generations who have lived and suffered within these walls, and they grow fanciful. So that when the mistress of the house is tragically killed they imagine her ghost still walks and that, although she is dead, she is still here. Well, I am a sensible woman, I hope. Alice was killed on a train, and that was the end of Alice.
I laughed at my folly in allowing myself to be caught up in such notions. Had not Daisy or Kitty explained that the whispering voices, which I heard in the night, were merely the sound of waves thundering in the cove below?
From now on I was entertaining no more such fantastic thoughts.
My room was filled with sunshine and I felt differently from the way I had felt on any other morning. I was exhilarated. I knew why. It was due to that man, Connan TreMellyn. Not that I liked him—quite in reverse; but it was as though he had issued a challenge. I was going to make a success of this job. I was going to make of Alvean not only a model pupil but a charming, unaffected, uninhibited little girl.
I felt so pleased that I began to hum softly under my breath.
Come into the Garden, Maud. , . That was a song Father used to like to play while Phillida sang, for in addition to her other qualities.
Phillida possessed a charming voice. Then I passed to Sweet and Low, and I for a moment forgot the house I was in and saw Father at the piano, his glasses slipping down his nose, his slippered feet making the most of the pedals.
I was almost astonished to find that I had unconsciously slipped into the song I had heard Gilly singing in the woods :
Alice, where art thou-Oh no, not that, I said sharply to myself.
I heard the sound of horses’ hoofs and I went to the window to look out. No one was visible. The lawns looked fresh and lovely with the early morning dew on them. What a beautiful sight, I thought; the palm trees gave the scene a tropical look and it was one of those mornings when there was every promise of a beautiful day.
” One of the last we can expect this summer, I daresay,” I said aloud;
and I threw open my window and leaned out, my thick coppery plaits, the ends tied with pieces of blue ribbon for bedtime, swinging out with me.
I went back to Sweet and Low and was humming this when Connan TreMellyn emerged from the stables. He saw me before I was able to draw back, and I felt myself grow
” I am sure you do.”
“There is no need for you to escort me back to the house.”
” I am forced to contradict you. There is every reason.”
” Do you think I am incapable of looking after myself?”
” I think none more capable of doing that than yourself. But as it happens I was on my way to call, and this is the most direct way to the house.”
I was silent until we came to Mount Mellyn.
Connan TreMellyn was coming from the stable.
” Hallo there, Con!” cried Peter Nansellock.
Connan TreMellyn looked at us in mild surprise, which I supposed was due to the fact that we were together. I hurried round to the back of the house.
It was not easy to sleep that night. The events of the day crowded into my mind and I saw pictures of myself and Connan TreMellyn, pictures of Alvean, of Celestine, and of myself in the woods with Peter Nansellock.
The wind was in a certain direction that night, and I could hear the waves thundering into Mellyn Cove.
In my present mood it certainly seemed that there were whispering voices down there, and that the words they said to each other were: ” Alice! Alice! Where is Alice? Alice, where are you?”
Ill
In the morning the fancies of the previous. night seemed foolish. I asked myself why so many people—including myself—wanted to make a mystery of what had happened in this house. It was an ordinary enough story.
I know what it is, I told myself. When people consider an ancient house like this, they make themselves believe it could tell some fantastic stories if it could only speak. They think of the generations who have lived and suffered within these walls, and they grow fanciful. So that when the mistress of the house is tragically killed they imagine her ghost still walks and that, although she is dead, she is still here. Well, I am a sensible woman, I hope. Alice was killed on a train, and that was the end of Alice.
I laughed at my folly in allowing myself to be caught up in such notions. Had not Daisy or Kitty explained that the whispering voices, which I heard in the night, were merely the sound of waves thundering in the cove below?
From now on I was entertaining no more such fantastic thoughts.
My room was filled with sunshine and I felt differently from the way I had felt on any other morning. I was exhilarated. I knew why. It was due to that man, Connan TreMellyn. Not that I liked him—quite in reverse; but it was as though he had issued a challenge. I was going to make a success of this job. I was going to make of Alvean not only a model pupil but a charming, unaffected, uninhibited little girl.
I felt so pleased that I began to hum softly under my breath.
Come into the Garden, Maud. , . That was a song Father used to like to play while Phillida sang, for in addition to her other qualities.
Phillida possessed a charming voice. Then I passed to Sweet and Low, and I for a moment forgot the house I was in and saw Father at the piano, his glasses slipping down his nose, his slippered feet making the most of the pedals.
I was almost astonished to find that I had unconsciously slipped into the song I had heard Gilly singing in the woods :
Alice, where art thou-Oh no, not that, I said sharply to myself.
I heard the sound of horses’ hoofs and I went to the window to look out. No one was visible. The lawns looked fresh and lovely with the early morning dew on them. What a beautiful sight, I thought; the palm trees gave the scene a tropical look and it was one of those mornings when there was every promise of a beautiful day.
” One of the last we can expect this summer, I daresay,” I said aloud;
and I threw open my window and leaned out, my thick coppery plaits, the ends tied with pieces of blue ribbon for bedtime, swinging out with me.
I went back to Sweet and Low and was humming this when Connan TreMellyn emerged from the stables. He saw me before I was able to draw back, and I felt myself grow
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