"We have no ghosts," I answered, with a gravity that struck even myself unpleasantly, it was in such contrast to her mellow and playful tones. "Ghosts are commonplace. We countenance nothing commonplace here."
"Good!" broke in a voice from the crowd of young men. "The house is above such follies. It must have some wonderful secret, then. What is it, Mrs. Truax? Do you own a banshee? Have you a—"
"Mamma, you hurt me!"
The cry was involuntary. Madame had caught her daughter by the hand and was probably unaware what passion she had put into her clasp. Mademoiselle Letellier blushed again at the sound of her own voice, and prayed her mother's pardon with the most engaging of smiles. As she did so, I caught a glimpse of that mother's face. It was white as death. "Decidedly, she knows more than she ought to," thought I. "And yet she wants to know more. Why?"
"The Happy-Go-Lucky Inn," I observed, as soon as the flutter caused by this incident had subsided, "is no more haunted by a banshee than by a ghost. But that is not saying it should not be. It is old enough, it is respectable enough; it has traditions enough. I could tell you tales of its owners, and incidents connected with the coming and going of the innumerable guests who have frequented it both before and during the revolution, that would keep you here till morning. But the one story I will tell must suffice. We should lose our character of mystery if I told you all. Besides, how could I tell all? Who could ever tell the complete story of such a house as this?"
"Hear! hear!" cried another young man.
"Years ago—" I stopped again, wickedly stopped. "Madame, will you not come forward where it is lighter?"
"I thank you," Madame Letellier responded.
She rose deliberately and came forward, tall, mute and commanding. She sat down in the light; she looked me in the face; she robbed me even of my doubts. I felt my heart turn over in my breast and wondered.
"You do not proceed," she murmured.