The Greatest Supernatural Tales of Sheridan Le Fanu (70+ Titles in One Edition). M. R. James

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      Such passages as these were of frequent occurrence; but though Mr. Audley was as choleric as most men at his time of life, yet the incongruous terms of abuse were so obviously the result of inveterate and almost unconscious habit, stimulated by the momentary twinges of acute pain, that he did not suffer this for an instant to disturb the serenity and goodwill with which he regarded his host, spite of all his oddities and self-indulgence.

      In the course of the evening Oliver French ordered Mistress Martha to have beds prepared for the party, and that lady, with rather a vicious look, withdrew. She soon returned, and asked in her usual low, dulcet tone, whether the young lady could spare her maid to assist in arranging the room, and forthwith Flora Guy consigned herself to the guidance of the sinister-looking Abigail.

      "This is a fine country, isn't it?" inquired Mistress Martha, softly, when they were quite alone.

      "A very fine country, indeed, ma'am," rejoined Flora, who had heard enough to inspire her with a certain awe of her conductress, which inclined her as much as possible to assent to whatever proposition she might be inclined to advance, without herself hazarding much original matter.

      "It's a pity you can't see it in the summer time; this is a very fine place indeed when all the leaves are on the trees," repeated Mistress Martha.

      "Indeed, so I'd take it to be, ma'am," rejoined the maid.

      "Just passing through this way—hurried like, you can't notice much about it though," remarked the elderly lady, carelessly.

      "No, ma'am," replied Flora, becoming more reserved, as she detected in her companion a wish to draw from her all she knew of her mistress's plans.

      "There are some views that are greatly admired in the neighbourhood—the glen and the falls of Glashangower. If she could stay a week she might see everything."

      "Oh! indeed, it's a lovely place," observed Flora, evasively.

      "That old gentleman, that Mr. Audley, your young mistress's father, or—or uncle, or whatever he is"—Mistress Martha here made a considerable pause, but Flora did not enlighten her, and she continued—"whatever he is to her, it's no matter, he seems a very good-humoured nice old gentleman—he's in a great hurry back to Dublin, where he came from, I suppose."

      "Well, I really don't know," replied the girl.

      "He looks very comfortable, and everything handsome and nice about him," observed Mistress Martha again. "I suppose he's well off—plenty of money—not in want at all."

      "Indeed he seems all that," rejoined the maid.

      "He's cousin, or something or another, to the master, Mr. French; didn't you tell me so?" asked the painted Abigail.

      "No, ma'am; I didn't tell you; I don't know," replied she.

      "This is a very damp old house, and full of rats; I wish I had known a week ago that beds would be wanting; but I suppose it was a sudden thing," said the housekeeper.

      "Indeed, I suppose it just was, ma'am," responded the attendant.

      "Are you going to stay here long?" asked the old lady, more briskly than she had yet spoken.

      "Raly, ma'am, I don't know," replied Flora.

      The old painted termagant shot a glance at her of no pleasant meaning; but for the present checked the impulse in which it had its birth, and repeated softly—"You don't know; why, you are a very innocent, simple little girl."

      "Pray, ma'am, if it's not making too bold, which is the room, ma'am?" asked Flora.

      "What's your young lady's name?" asked the matron, directly, and disregarding the question of the girl.

      Flora Guy hesitated.

      "Do you hear me—what's your young lady's name?" repeated the woman, softly, but deliberately.

      "Her name, to be sure; her name is Miss Mary," replied she.

      "Mary what?" asked Martha.

      "Miss Mary Ashwoode," replied Flora, half afraid as she uttered it.

      Spite of all her efforts, the woman's face exhibited disagreeable symptoms of emotion at this announcement; she bit her lips and dropped her eyelids lower than usual, to conceal the expression which gleamed to her eyes, while her colour shifted even through her rouge. At length, with a smile infinitely more unpleasant than any expression which her face had yet worn, she observed,—

      "Ashwoode, Ashwoode. Oh! dear, to be sure; some of Sir Richard's family; well, I did not expect to see them darken these doors again. Dear me! who'd have thought of the Ashwoodes looking after him again? well, well, but they're a very forgiving family," and she uttered an ill-omened tittering.

      "Which is the room, ma'am, if you please?" repeated Flora.

      "That's the room," cried the stalwart dame, with astounding vehemence, and at the same time opening a door and exhibiting a large neglected bed-chamber, with its bed-clothes and other furniture lying about in entire disorder, and no vestige of a fire in the grate; "that's the room, miss, and make the best of it yourself, for you've nothing else to do."

      In this very uncomfortable predicament Flora Guy applied herself energetically to reduce the room to something like order, and although it was very cold and not a little damp, she succeeded, nevertheless, in giving it an air of tolerable comfort by the time her young mistress was prepared to retire to it.

      As soon as Mary Ashwoode had entered this chamber her maid proceeded to narrate the occurrences which had just taken place.

      "Well, Flora," said she, smiling, "I hope the old lady will resume her good temper by to-morrow, for one night I can easily contrive to rest with such appliances as we have. I am more sorry, for your sake, my poor girl, than for mine, however, and wherever I lay me down, my rest will be, I fear me, very nearly alike."

      "She's the darkest, ill-lookingest old woman, God bless us, that ever I set my two good-looking eyes upon, my lady," said Flora. "I'll put a table to the door; for, to tell God's truth, I'm half afeard of her. She has a nasty look in her, my lady—a bad look entirely."

      Flora had hardly spoken when the door opened, and the subject of their conversation entered.

      "Good evening to you, Miss Ashwoode," said she, advancing close to the young lady, and speaking in her usual low soft tone. "I hope you find everything to your liking. I suppose your own maid has settled everything according to your fancy. Of course, she knows best how to please you. I'm very delighted to see you here in Ardgillagh, as I was telling your innocent maid there—very glad, indeed; because, as I said, it shows how forgiving you are, after all the master has said and done, and the way he has always spit on every one of your family that ever came here looking after his money—though, indeed, I'm sure you're a great deal too good and too religious to care about money; and I'm sure and certain it's only for the sake of Christian charity, and out of a forgiving disposition, and to show that there isn't a bit of pride of any sort, or kind, or description in your carcase—that you're come here to make yourself at home in this house, that never belonged to you, and that never will, and to beg favours of the gentleman that hates, and despises, and СКАЧАТЬ