"Oh, no, nothing so interesting as that! I always longed to see Hugo. No, this is just a voice that comes and goes, wails about the rooms and the gardens. It is one of the Montfort women, I believe, the one who cut up her wedding-gown and then went mad."
"Penelope?"
"That's it! Penelope Montfort. Once in a while they see her, but very rarely, I believe."
"Mrs. Peyton, you are making fun of me. Aunt Faith told me there was no ghost except that of Hugo Montfort; of course I don't mean that there is really that; but no ghost that people had ever fancied."
"Ah, well, my dear, all this was before Mrs. Cheriton came to Fernley! Before such a piece of perfection as she was, no wandering ghost would have ventured to appear. Now don't stiffen into stone, Margaret Montfort! I know she was a saint, but she never liked me, and I am not a saint, you see. I was always a sinner, and I expect to remain one. And certainly, there was a white figure seen about Fernley, at that time I was speaking of; and no one ever found out what it was; and if you want to know any more, you must ask John Montfort. There, now my head is confused, and I shall not have a straight thought again to-day!"
The lady turned her head fretfully on the pillow. Margaret, who knew her ways well, sat silent for some minutes, and then began to sing softly:
O sweetest lady ever seen,
(With a heigh ho! and a lily gay,)
Give consent to be my queen,
(As the primrose spreads so sweetly.)
Before the long ballad was ended, the line between Mrs. Peyton's eyebrows was gone, and her beautiful face wore a look of contentment that was not common to it.
"Go away now!" the lady murmured. "You have straightened me out again. Be thankful for that little silver voice of yours, child! You can do more good with it in the world than you know. I really think you are one of the few good persons who are not odious. Go now! Good-bye!"
Margaret went away, thinking, as she had often thought before, how like her Cousin Rita this fair lady was. "Only Rita has a great, great deal more heart!" she said to herself. "Rita only laughs at people when she is in one of her bad moods. Dear Rita! I wonder where she is to-day. And Peggy is driving the mowing machine, she writes; mowing hundreds of acres, and riding bareback, and having a glorious time."