Mrs. Vance withdrew a step in amazement.
"Old woman, you are crazy. Go, leave the room this very instant!"
"Give me the gold," still pleaded the miserly old hag.
"I will have you turned out of the house this minute, miserable old beggar!" cried Mrs. Vance, moving toward the bell.
"Stop one moment, lady, I have something to say to you—a secret to tell you. You would not have me tell it before the servants, would you?" said the old woman, in such a meaning tone that Mrs. Vance actually hesitated, with her hand on the bell-rope.
"Say on," said she, haughtily, and thinking to herself that the old lace-vender was insane.
"Bend closer, lady, the walls have ears sometimes. This is a terrible secret," said Haidee, with a solemn air.
Mrs. Vance moved a step nearer, impressed in spite of herself by the eerie, witch-like gestures and sepulchral air of the speaker.
"Lady, a few nights ago a fair young girl was murdered within these stately walls. Ah! you tremble; she trembled too when the jealous woman stole into her room, turned the key in the lock, and struck her down as she stood looking at her sweet reflection in her bridal dress—yes, struck her down with a brutal dagger-thrust in her heart. The wicked murderess stooped to see if her guilty work was done, then escaped down the ladder of vines that climbed up to the window. The jury said that the poor girl committed suicide; but we know better—do we not, beautiful lady?"
"You are a fiend," cried Mrs. Vance, from the chair where she had sunk down, still clutching the heavy purse of gold coins in her cold hand. "You lie! no one murdered her—she died by her own hand."