And, with a nod, but without again looking at her he left the room, as Mrs. Bean came in with a candle.
CHAPTER X.
“You’ll be glad to go to bed, I dare say, my dear,” said the housekeeper. “If you hear any noises in the night, don’t be afraid; this old house is full of them. Good-night.”
Freda fled across the hall and hopped up the stairs.
Oh! How long that gallery seemed, skim over the floor as she might! The candle smoked and flared and guttered in her hand, and the boards creaked, and the musty smell seemed to choke her. The row of stately carved oak chairs, ranged along the wall on one side, seemed to be set ready for the midnight hour when the faded ladies and the sombre gentlemen should come down from their frames and hold ghostly converse there. She ran along the stone passage to the door of her room, and threw it open suddenly.
A man sprang up from his knees before the wide, open grate, in which a wood fire now burned. The girl, no longer mistress of herself in her fright and excitement, uttered a cry.
“It’s all right,” said the rough voice which had already begun to grow familiar to her, “I thought you’d like a fire. So I brought some sticks, and a log. It’s cold here after France, I expect. Anyhow, the blaze makes it look more cheerful.”
Freda was touched.
“Oh, thank you—so very much! How kind of you.”
“Stuff! Kind! You’re mistress here now, you know, as you said; and one must make the mistress comfortable.”