"Aunt, it must have been one of the servant-girls," spoke Ella, finding relief in the idea.
"No, no, no," emphatically pronounced Mrs. Carlyon. "Not so, child. I ran down the staircase, not knowing or caring whither it might lead me," she continued, "and along the passage at its foot, and found myself close to the large kitchen. Aaron sat smoking his pipe over the fire; within the open door of another room I saw the two maids seated at work by candlelight, old Dorothy inspecting its progress through her spectacles. How I managed not to run into them with my fear, I can hardly tell; but I controlled it, and came on to you. Now you know all, Ella."
Miss Winter felt both puzzled and annoyed. She knew not what to think. Had it been a servant who told the story, she would have said at once that the girl had been the victim of her own foolish fancies; but in the case of a woman like Mrs. Carlyon no such belief was possible. Who and what could it have been? Had it anything to do with the strange disappearance of Katherine Keen--and with the superstitious reports that arose afterwards?
"This had better not be spoken of, aunt," said Ella.
"No, indeed," quickly assented Mrs. Carlyon. "But you won't find me going upstairs alone, at dusk again. All the wealth of the Indies would not tempt me to live through a winter in this dreadful old house."
[CHAPTER VII.]
THE MISTRESS OF HERON DYKE
Although many of the county families and leading people of the neighbourhood were away in London or abroad when Miss Winter took possession of her inheritance, a goodly number still remained who were not long in making their way to Heron Dyke to pay their respects to its mistress. More carriages passed through the lodge-gates during the first few weeks after Squire Denison's death than had been seen there for a dozen years before. Everybody was anxious to court the heiress; some, who did not know her previously, to make her acquaintance. Ella had not bargained to have her privacy thus speedily invaded by a mob of fine people; but Mrs. Carlyon told her with a smile that she was now one of the magnates of the county, and that having accepted the position she must take the responsibilities with it.
"You can make your escape whenever you please, by coming to me in London, you know, Ella," she said: and said it rather frequently.
The world seemed to take it for granted that Miss Winter would marry. As yet there was no rumour of her being engaged, but as there were several eligible men, bachelors, in the neighbourhood, speculators were much exercised in their minds as to the chances of this, that, or the other one becoming the favoured individual. They all fervently hoped that Mrs. Carlyon would not drag her niece away to London, as she seemed to wish to do, or else there would be no knowing what might become of her. It would be dreadful for such a prize to fall to the lot of a stranger.