"Yes; it would no doubt be better for her," assented Mrs. Carlyon, slowly: but, Mr. Denison thought, dubiously.
"Look here, Gertrude: for a woman you've got as sharp a share of sense as here and there one," cried he, lowering his tone as he bent forward towards her. "People have set up all kinds of superstitious notions about the affair; the women here hardly dare stir out of their kitchens after dusk. I find a notion prevails that Katherine is still in the house--is seen sometimes at her window at night. Now, as she can't be in the house alive, you--you must see what that means--folks are such fools, the uneducated ones. But, I put it to you, Gertrude--with this absurd nonsense being whispered about the house, whether it is fit the lassie should spend her winter in it? Eh, now, come!"
He glanced keenly for a moment at Mrs. Carlyon, as if to see whether his words impressed her. And they certainly had.
"No, it is not," she assented, speaking firmly, "and I will take her out of it. But--you speak of the young women-servants, I suppose, Gilbert? It is not at all seemly that they should be allowed to say such things. See Katherine at her window! How absurd! What next?"
"And profess to hear weird sounds about the passages, whisperings, and such like," added the Squire, as if he had pleasure in repeating this.
"What is Dorothy Stone about, to allow it?"
"Dorothy is worse than they are: she always was the most superstitious woman I ever knew. Not a step dare she stir about the house now after dark. Old Aaron is in a rare rage with her; threatens to shake her sometimes," added the Squire with a grim smile.
"There can't be anything in it, you know, Gilbert."
"I don't know," he answered: and Mrs. Carlyon stared at him. "After the disappearance of Katherine into--into air, as may be said, one may well believe any marvel. Eh, now?" continued the Squire. "At any rate, Gertrude, it seems to me that we may forgive these poor ignorant people who do believe. But, to go back to the question: Heron Dyke is getting an ill name for mystery, see you, and I do not choose that my innocent lassie shall pass the winter in it."
"Quite right; I perceive all now, and I will take her out of it, Gilbert. At least for two or three of the dark months."