‘That it was! But I dare say you know all about the place,’ I answered.
‘No, indeed!’ she returned. ‘I know nothing about it. As we went to our room, mamma opened the door and showed me the library, else I shouldn’t have been able to help you at all.’
‘Then you haven’t been here often?’
‘No; and I never shall be again.—I’m going away to school,’ she added; and her voice trembled.
‘So am I,’ I said. ‘I’m going to Switzerland in a month or two. But then I haven’t a mamma to leave behind me.’ She broke down at that, and hid her head on her mother’s bosom. I had unawares added to her grief, for her brother Charley was going to Switzerland too.
I found afterwards that Mr Elder, having been consulted by Mr Osborne, had arranged with my uncle that Charley Osborne and I should go together.
Mary Osborne—I never called her Polly as Clara did—continued so overcome by her grief, that her mother turned to me and said,
‘I think you had better go, Master Cumbermede.’
I bade her good morning, and made my way to Mrs Wilson’s apartment. I found she had been to my room, and was expecting me with some anxiety, fearing I had set off without my breakfast. Alas! she knew nothing about the sword, looked annoyed, and, I thought, rather mysterious; said she would have a search, make inquiries, do what she could, and such like, but begged I would say nothing about it in the house. I left her with a suspicion that she believed the ghost had carried it away, and that it was of no use to go searching for it.
Two days after, a parcel arrived for me. I concluded it was my sword; but, to my grievous disappointment, found it was only a large hamper of apples and cakes, very acceptable in themselves, but too plainly indicating Mrs Wilson’s desire to console me for what could not be helped. Mr Elder never missed the sword. I rose high in the estimation of my schoolfellows because of the adventure, especially in that of Moberly, who did not believe in the ghost, but ineffectually tasked his poor brains to account for the disappearance of the weapon. The best light was thrown upon it by a merry boy of the name of Fisher, who declared his conviction that the steward had carried it off to add to his collection.