Mrs. Jessel did not condescend to address herself to Susan, but in speaking to Emmie virtually gave a reply to the observation made by the servant.
“My poor dear lady was perfectly deaf, she could not hear what I heard; her eyes were dim, she could not see what I saw,—or she would not have rested a second night with only a wall between her and”—again Jael glanced furtively around as she murmured—“that fearful chamber!”
“What did you see,—what did you hear?” asked Emmie, shuddering as she recalled to mind the warnings given by old Harper.
Mrs. Jessel did not wait to be asked twice; she was ready enough to impart to any credulous listener her tale of horrors. Susan was hardly restrained, by her respect for her young mistress, from repeatedly interrupting the stranger, who was doing her worst to fill the mind of a nervous girl with superstitious fears at a time when bodily weariness had prepared it for their reception. At last the indignant lady’s-maid could keep silence no longer.
“What you bore for years, Mrs. Jessel, and without being any the worse for it, could have been nothing very dreadful,” said Susan bluntly. “My lady knows that a good Providence is as near her in this room as anywhere else, and that they who keep a clear conscience need fear neither goblin nor ghost!”
“Ah, well, we shall see, we shall see,” observed Mrs. Jessel, drawing her black shawl closer around her, as a preparation for departure. “I don’t believe there’s a being who knows the place that would go through the wood at night but myself; but, as you say, a clear conscience gives courage. I wish you a good night, Miss Trevor,” added Jael, courtesying formally to the lady; “but, to my mind, you’d have a better chance of one if you were to sleep in a different room.”
Mrs. Jessel quitted the apartment; but she left behind her the painful impression which her words were calculated to make on a mind such as Emmie’s,—a mind not yet sufficiently disciplined by self-control, or influenced by faith, to bring reason and religion to bear upon superstitious fears and nervous forebodings.
Emmie rose from the sofa, and took two or three turns up and down her apartment; while Susan occupied herself in trimming the fire. The young lady then stopped abruptly in her walk.
“Susan,” she said, “I cannot sleep in this room!” It was humiliating to utter such a confession, even to a domestic.
“Oh, Miss Emmie, if you would let me be beside you to-night—” began Susan; but Emmie did not heed her attendant’s suggestion.