"There are various interpretations of the legend. No one knows the truth—only that she killed herself and cursed the family in that unpleasant manner."
"And has the curse come true?"
For a moment Miss Duggan hesitated. Then she sent startled eyes up into his face. There was the look of a dog at bay in them.
"I don't believe the story, Mr. Deland! I don't believe a word of it, for such things cannot possibly be, in this civilized country," she answered in a scared tone. "And yet—ever since that day, one at least of each generation has died unnaturally. And now—in this generation there is only Father and Ross.... This peasant-girl is supposed to haunt our dear Castle, and after midnight to stalk the place over, looking for the man who dishonoured her and who has been dead these many generations past."
"H'm! I see. And so, naturally, she cannot find him. A weird story, and more pleasant in the daylight than in the dark. And this is the lady's spinning wheel, I take it? Your father has it by his writing-table, I see. Rather in the way, isn't it?"
"It used to stand over there, in the corner, but Paula declared that it was too dark there, and that it did not show to its full beauty. So she moved it. Father lets her do whatever she wishes. And of course it does show better there, by the window, doesn't it? And as it's Father's left hand that comes beside it, Mr. Deland, I don't really see that it much matters."
"No, I suppose not.... Hello! we've been a long time here, haven't we? And I haven't seen the half of the place yet. Isn't that the luncheon gong? Or is it just your tangy Highland air that makes me hungry enough to imagine it?"
"Neither," said she, laughing. "That's Rhea's bell. It hangs just under the bronze statue of Rhea—you remember the one I showed you yesterday as we came home together?—and it rings upon the entrance of any one through the great gate. A clumsy contraption, which has never been altered in all these years."
"But quite useful—with unwanted visitors," he replied, stooping suddenly and picking up something off the carpet. "Hello, what's this? Looks like a bit of flexible electric wire. Something of your brother's hobby, no doubt."
He held it out to her in the open palm of his hand. It was just a little scrap of crimson-covered flexible wire, and she barely noticed it.