I thanked him heartily; but Rose said decidedly: ‘I cannot go to Ashdene to-morrow; you forget that it is my day for visiting the school.’
Mr Aslatt’s face changed, and a look passed across it, which I should have called a look of pain had not the cause been so trivial. ‘Surely you need not go to the school to-morrow, Rose,’ he said gently; ‘your visit is not of so much importance, but that Mr Hammond can manage without you for once.’
Rose’s face crimsoned and her lip pouted, but she made no reply; and Mr Aslatt hastily introduced another subject of conversation. But her brightness was gone for the rest of the evening; she replied shortly and coldly to her guardian’s remarks, and flatly refused to sing when he asked her to do so. It was evident that her conduct grieved him, for the look of pain was more clearly visible; but he shewed no sign of resentment, and the tone in which he bade her good-night was as affectionate as if her behaviour had been all that he could have desired.
‘This is the way to the haunted rooms,’ said Rose as we went up to bed together, opening as she spoke a door at the top of the draughty staircase. She raised her lamp, so that its light rendered visible the gloom of the dreary corridor. The air which met us had a close musty smell; and the grotesque figures carved on the oak panels, with the sculptures in the distance casting dim shadows on the opposite wall, had rather a weird appearance in the uncertain light. Suddenly a door creaked on its hinges, and Rose sprang back, uttering a faint cry, and hastily closed the door which communicated with this passage. ‘Did you hear that?’ she asked in an awe-struck whisper.
‘Why, you silly girl,’ I said laughingly, ‘what you heard was only the effect of the wind!’
She shook her head unbelievingly, and replied: ‘Well, remember, I warn you to shun that part of the house, especially when night is coming on.’
The next morning, at an early hour, the horses were brought to the door, and Mr Aslatt, Rose, and I started for Ashdene. Rose had made no further opposition to the expedition, and there was no trace of vexation on her lovely face as we rode off. She looked remarkably well in her riding costume. The close-fitting habit of dark-blue cloth shewed to advantage the exquisite symmetry of her figure; and the little velvet hat, whose sole ornament was a heron’s plume, was very becoming to the fair face. She was an accomplished rider, and controlled admirably, without the least appearance of effort, the spirited movements of the beautiful animal she rode. It was a bright May morning, and the ride was most enjoyable. About noon we reached the little town of Ashdene, where we dismounted; and after partaking of some luncheon at the hotel, proceeded to view the ruins of the old Priory. Here we found so much to interest us that the afternoon was far advanced before we were ready to return. As we were walking our horses up a hill not very far from home, I saw a young man coming towards us dressed in a gray tweed suit. As he came into view, Mr Aslatt urged his horse into a canter; but Rose checked hers as it quickened its pace, and said reproachfully: ‘The horses are tired, cousin; we must not hurry them up this hill.’
As the young man drew near, he raised his hat. ‘Good afternoon, Hammond,’ said Mr Aslatt, rather stiffly I thought.
How it happened I don’t know, but just then Rose dropped her riding-whip, and it fell within a few feet of Mr Hammond. He picked it up in a moment, and handed it to the young lady, who thanked him most graciously, and even bent down from her saddle to shake hands with him. ‘I was so sorry to be absent from my post to-day, Mr Hammond,’ she said; ‘but we were tempted to take advantage of this fine day for a ride to Ashdene.’
‘It was a great disappointment to the scholars not to see you,’ he replied; ‘but they have no cause to complain, for it is so seldom you are absent. I think you are if possible too devoted to their welfare.’