On seeing me, she jumped quickly down, and ran to open one of the small gates. I recognized the shy, pretty face of Anstey Brian, and stopped inside the gate to speak to her.
“If Mr. Sarsfield comes, will you tell him I have gone home?” I said; and was turning away, when Anstey, with a nervous blush, said, in a soft, deprecating voice—
“Oh, miss, I beg your pardon! I was very sorry to hear you got anny sort of a fright from my mother last night. It’s just a little restless she is, those last few nights, and my father’d be greatly vexed if he thought you got anny annoyance by her.”
I assured her that my alarm had only been momentary, wondering vaguely how she had heard anything about it.
“Indeed, miss, she’d hurt no one. She’s this way, foolish-like, this long time.”
“How long is it since it began?” I said, with interest.
“I never remember her anny other way, miss, though my father says she was once a fine, handsome girl, and as sensible as yourself, miss.”
“Did her mind go from an accident?” I asked.
“Why, then, indeed, miss, I don’t rightly know. She had some strange turn in her always, and afther I was born she got quare altogether; and that’s the way she is ever since. Dumb, like she couldn’t spake, and silly in her mind.”
I was looking in the direction of the lodge while she spoke, half unconsciously noting how thickly the ivy trails hung over its small windows, when I became aware of a face looking out at me through one of them.