She looked anxiously at him, but did not ask him any question more. She proposed they should take a turn in the park, and his gloom wore gradually off.
CHAPTER LIX.
DUST TO DUST.
The next night, as if by a common understanding, for it was without word spoken, the three met again in the housekeeper’s room, where she had supper waiting. Of business nothing was said until that was over. Mistress Brookes told them two or three of the stories of which she had so many, and Donal recounted one or two of those that floated about his country-side.
“I’ve been thinkin’,” said mistress Brookes at length, “seein’ it’s a bonnie starry nicht, we couldna do better than lift an’ lay doon this varra nicht. The hoose is asleep.”
“What do you say to that place in the park where was once a mausoleum?” said Donal.
“It’s the varra place!—an’ the sooner the better—dinna ye think, my leddy?”
Arctura with a look referred the question to Donal.
“Surely,” he answered. “But will there not be some preparations to make?”
“There’s no need o’ mony!” returned the housekeeper. “I’ll get a fine auld sheet, an’ intil ’t we’ll put the remains, an’ row them up, an’ carry them to their hame. I’ll go an’ get it, my leddy.—But wouldna ’t be better for you and me, sir, to get a’ that dune by oorsel’s? My leddy could j’in us whan we cam up.”
“She wouldn’t like to be left here alone. There is nothing to be called fearsome!”