Lady Wroth laughed quietly and sweetly. “Do you believe that the spirits of those who have passed on can only appear in the dark, dear Mrs. Ansdey?�
The housekeeper rustled her stiff silken skirts as she followed her new mistress up the broad staircase with its carven balusters and mossy carpets.
“I don’t believe in ghosts at all, my lady!�
“Not in ghosts as they are commonly imagined; those shadowy white things that point and scare and hover,� came floating back in the thin, sweet tones; “but in the spirits of the departed—it may be long-dead, or newly called from earth—who borrow for a little while the semblance in which they lived and loved, and return for one last look at a beloved home, or come for one dear glimpse of what might, but for the Infinite Eternal Will, have been a home. You believe in them, do you not? Or, if you do not now, you will! Ah, yes! you will, dear Mrs. Ansdey!�
Looking upward from the hall, the butler saw the slight figure of Sir Vivian’s bride traverse the first landing and pass out of view, followed by the portly figure of the housekeeper; and in that moment came the grind of wheels upon the avenue, a loud knock at the hall-door, and a sharp peal at the bell. Two liveried servants, appearing in haste, admitted the master of the house, and at the first glimpse of Sir Vivian’s ghastly face and torn and disordered garments, Cradell cried out in alarm.
“Sir Vivian—sir! It’s worse than what my lady said!... You’ve been hurt! Shall I send for the doctor?�
“He is with us!� came the hoarse reply, and Cradell, peering out into the chill, gathering darkness, saw a strange carriage drawn up before the door, whose lamps threw a yellow reflection on the clouds of steam rising from the flanks of a pair of jaded horses. They were busy about the door; something was being lifted out? What? asked the old servant’s shaking lips dumbly.
“Drove in from Greystoke ... hospital carriage.... Send the men to help.... Get me some brandy,� came from Sir Vivian in hoarse shaking tones. “I can’t ... my arm ... dislocated, that’s all. I wish to Heaven——� His face expressed the nature of the wish, and the old butler cried with spirit, as he brought the brandy from the dining-room. “You should be thankful, sir, that you’ve been spared to her!�
“Spared to—her?�
The decanter clinked against the glass. Sir Vivian set it down upon the tray, and turned a white, seamed face and haggard eyes upon Cradell.