Mrs. "F" slept with me; I was awoke early by my dog crying, and I saw two black paws resting on the table beside the bed. It gave me a sickening sensation, and I longed to wake Mrs. "F" to see if she would see them, but I remembered her bad night of yesterday, and left her in peace.
The priests spend much time in devotions, and are very decided in their views as to the malignity of the influence. The bishop comes to-day, and we hope he will have Mass said in the house. We shall then have ten Roman Catholics in the household—two visitors, three clergy, two visitors' maids, and three of our own servants. That should have an effect upon the Major! Miss Moore and Scamp arrived.
May 5th.—The bishop is in No. 1. He arrived to lunch to-day. Last night all was quiet after bedtime, but sitting in the drawing-room about five o'clock, having just come in from a drive, five of us heard the detonating noise, as it were in the empty room overhead. Madame B——, Mrs. "F," Mrs. M——, the Rev. MacL——, and myself. Mrs. "F" left this morning.
The priests went with me to the copse. They saw nothing, but were in too anxious a state to be receptive. I saw Ishbel for one moment. She looked agonised, as never before.
Mr. B. S—— dined with us, and the servants, indoor and out, danced in the hall in the evening. We had pipers, and some supper for them in the billiard-room. The gardener and the butler and cook say there was a great crash in the room just when the parish minister was saying grace, and that many of the people from outside noticed it, and "they just looked at each other." I was myself in the room, but as we had just had a very physical and commonplace disturbance—the arrival of an uninvited and intoxicated guest, of which the other people did not know as I did—I was preoccupied at the moment.
Mass this morning in the drawing-room.
May 6th.—Madame Boisseaux has had to go suddenly; there has been terrible news for her of this Paris fire. She came into my room very early with her telegram (arrived too late for delivery last night). I did not like to worry her with questions, overwhelmed as she was, but she said her room "resounded with knocks."
There was Mass said in the ground-floor sitting-room this morning, and as I knelt facing the window I saw Ishbel with the grey woman, nearer the house than ever before. She looked pensive, but, as compared with last time, much relieved.
This is the last time the figures were seen. The following details are quoted from a letter written by Miss Freer to Lord Bute on this day: "Mass was said this morning in the downstairs room, the altar arranged in front of the window, so that, as we knelt, we faced the garden. Poor Madame Boisseaux was dressed for travelling, and in much agitation. As the carriage which was to take her to the station was expected at any moment, I suggested that she and I should remain upstairs, but she said she should like to be there, if only for a few minutes, the more that the 'intention' was to be partly for those who had suffered in the fire, and for their sorrowing friends. She and I, therefore, knelt close to the door, keeping it slightly ajar, so as to be able to obey a summons at any moment.
"Suddenly she touched my arm, and directed my attention to the window. There I saw a figure standing outside, which—so slow-sighted am I—I took for the moment for Madame's maid, and thought she had come to call our attention through the window—a long 'French' one, opening out on to the lawn—as less likely to disturb the service. I was starting up when I perceived that the figure was 'Ishbel'—the black gown, like that worn by the maid, had misled me for the moment. 'Marget' seemed to hover in the background, but she was much less distinct than the other. A minute later we were called away.