XVII
Mildred Tarnley’s Warning Story
As she reached the top of the stairs she called to the old servant, not, I think, caring to traverse the haunted flooring that intervened alone. She heard Dulcibella talking, and a moment after her old nurse appeared, and standing by her shoulder Mildred Tarnley.
“Oh, Mrs. Tarnley! I’m so glad to see you—you’ve been paying Dulcibella a visit. Pray, come back, and tell me some stories about this old house; you’ve been so long here, and know it so well, that you must have a great deal to tell.”
The old woman, with the unpleasant face, made a stiff courtesy.
“At your service, ma’am,” she said, ungraciously.
“That is if it don’t inconvenience you,” pleaded Alice, who was still a little afraid of her.
“ ’Tis as you please, ma’am,” said the old servant, with another dry courtesy.
“Well, I’m so glad you can come. Dulcibella, have we a little bit of fire? Oh, yes, I see—it looks so cheerful.”
So they entered the old-fashioned bedroom.
“I hope, Mrs. Tarnley, I’m not keeping you from your tea?”
“No, I thank ye, ma’am. I’ve ’ad my tea an hour agone,” answered the old woman.
“And you must sit down, Mrs. Tarnley,” urged Alice.
“I’ll stand, if ye please, ma’am,” said the withered figure perversely.
“I should be so much happier if you would sit down, Mildred,” urged her young mistress; “but if you prefer it—I only mean that whatever is most comfortable to you you should do. I wanted so much to hear something about this old house. You remember what happened when I was coming upstairs with you—when I was so startled.”
“I didn’t see it, miss—ma’am. I only heard you say summat,” answered Mildred Tarnley.
“Oh, yes, I know; but you spoke today of a warning, and you looked when it happened as if you had heard of it before.”
The old woman raised her chin, and with her hands folded together made another courtesy, which mutually seemed to say—
“If you have anything to ask, ask it.”
“Do you remember,” inquired Alice, “having ever heard of anything strange being seen at that passage near the head of the stairs?”
“I ought, ma’am,” answered the old woman discreetly.
“And what was it?” inquired Alice.
“I don’t know, ma’am, would the master be pleased if he was to hear I was talkin’ o’ such things to you,” suggested Mildred.
“He’d only laugh as I should, I assure you. I’m not the least a coward; so you need not be afraid of my making a fool of myself. Now, do tell me what it was!”
“Well, ma’am, you’ll be pleased to remember ’tis you orders me, in case Master Charles should turn on me about it; but, as you say, ma’am, there’s many thinks ’tis all nothin’ but old ’oman’s tales and fribble-frabble; and ’tisn’t for me to say—”
“I’ll take all the blame to myself,” said Alice.
“There’s no blame in’t as I’m aware on; and if there was I wouldn’t ask no one to take it on themselves more than their right share; and that I’d take leave to lay on them myself, without stoppin’ to ask whether they likes it or no; but only I told you, ma’am, that I should have your orders, and wi’ them I’ll comply.”
“Yes, certainly, Mrs. Tarnley—and now do kindly go on,” said Alice.
“Well, please, ma’am, you’ll tell me what you saw?”
“A heavy black drapery fell from the top of the arch through which we pass to the gallery outside the door, and for some seconds closed up the entire entrance,” answered the young lady.
“Ay, ay, no doubt that’s it; but there was no drapery there, ma’am, sich as this world’s loom ever wove. Them as weaves that web is light o’ hand and heavy o’ heart, and the de’el himself speeds the shuttle,” and as she said this the old woman smiled sourly. “I was talking o’ that very thing to Mrs. Crane here when you came up, ma’am.”
“Yes,” said old Dulcibella, quietly; “it was very strange, surely.”
“And there came quite a cloud of dust from it rolling along the floor,” continued Alice.
“Yes, so there would—so there does; ’tis always so,” said Mrs. Tarnley, with the same faint ugly smile; “not that there’s a grain o’ dust in all the gallery, for the child Lily Dogger and me washed it out and swept it clean. Dust ye saw; but that’s no real dust, like what the minister means when he says, ‘Dust to dust.’ No, no, a finer dust by far—the dust o’ death. No more clay in that than in yon smoke, or the mist in Carwell Glen below; no dust at all, but sich dust as a ghost might shake from its windin’ sheet—an appearance, ye understand; that’s all, ma’am—like the rest.”
Alice smiled, but old Mildred’s answering smile chilled her, and she turned to Dulcibella; but good Mrs. Crane looked in her face with round eyes of consternation and a very solemn countenance.
“I see, Dulcibella, if my courage fails I’m not to look to you for support. Well, Mrs. Tarnley, don’t mind—I shan’t need her help; and I’m not a bit afraid, so pray go on.”
“Well, ye see, ma’am, this place and the house came into the family, my grandmother used to say, more than a hundred years ago; and I was a little thing when I used to hear her say so, and there’s many a year added to the tale since then; but it was in the days o’ Sir Harry Fairfield. They called him Harry Boots in his day, for he was never
