She fell into a state of morbid melancholy, making an idol of her grief. From the day[24] of her husband’s funeral to that of her own death, a period of fifty years, my poor aunt never once quitted the house, even to attend a place of worship.”

“The most singular and eccentric mark of the widow’s sorrow was her determination that the room in which her husband died should always remain as it was on the day of his burial,” said Bruce. “Aunt Myers had the shutters closed, and the door not only locked, but actually bricked up, so that no foot might ever enter or eye look on the apartment connected in her mind with associations so painful. It is merely that closed-up chamber which gives to the house the name of being haunted.”

“The sooner it is opened to heaven’s light and air the better,” observed Captain Arrows. “Let the first thing done in that house be to unbrick and unlock the door, fling back shutters and throw open windows, and the first time that I visit Myst Court let me sleep in the haunted chamber.”

“I am afraid that I have not the power either to follow your advice or to gratify your wish,” said Mr. Trevor. “My poor aunt, retaining her strange fancy to the last, actually—in a codicil to her will—made as a condition to my possession of the place that the room in which her husband died should remain as it is now, bricked up and unused.”

“That condition would add not a little to the[25] difficulty of letting or selling the house,” observed the practical Bruce.

“It appears to be a law of nature that whatever is useless becomes actually noxious,” remarked the captain. “That closed chamber, into which the sun never shines, will tend to make the dwelling less healthy, as well as less cheerful.”

Again Emmie breathed a faint sigh.

“And now we return to my proposition,” said Mr. Trevor gravely. “Shall I remain where I am, and put this large property into the hands of some agent to let or improve as he may,—with but little chance of its becoming of much more than nominal value; or shall I give up my office, take the pension to which I am now entitled, live on my own estate, look after my tenants, and gradually effect such improvements as may make the land profitable, if not to myself, to my heirs?”

“What does Bruce, who has seen the property, say on the question?” asked the captain, turning towards his elder nephew.

Bruce replied alike without haste or hesitation. “If my father leave his office in London, there are at least twenty persons ready and eager to fill his place, and to do his work; but there is not one who could be his substitute at Myst Court. It is the master’s eye that is wanted there, not that of a paid agent.”[26]

Young as was Bruce, his words carried weight with his father. Mr. Trevor’s elder son in most points presented a contrast to Vibert; as regarded ripeness of judgment, the fifteen months that separated their ages might have been as many years. In physical appearance the brothers were also unlike each other. Bruce, though older, was not so tall as Vibert; his frame was spare and slight. He had not, like Emmie and his brother, inherited their mother’s beauty. The good sense expressed in his steady gray eyes, the decision marked in the curve of his lip, alone redeemed the countenance of Bruce from being of a commonplace type. The characteristics of the three Trevors had been thus playfully sketched by a lively girl who was a frequent guest at Summer Villa: “If I want amusement, I choose Vibert for my companion; if I need sympathy, I turn to Emmie; but if I am in difficulty or danger, commend me to Bruce, he has the cool brain and firm heart. I like Vibert; I love Emmie; but Bruce is the one whom I trust.”

A brief silence succeeded the young man’s reply to his father; it was broken by Vibert’s inquiry, “What sort of a town is S——?”

“Like any other county town,” replied Bruce shortly. The question seemed to him to be trifling, and irrelevant to the subject of conversation.[27]

“S—— seemed to me to be a pleasant, cheerful place,” said the more indulgent father.

“And I suppose that fishing and shooting are to be had at Myst Court?” inquired the youth.

“A stream runs through part of the property, and there is likely to be plenty of game in the copse,” replied Mr. Trevor.

“Then I vote that we go to Myst Court!” cried Vibert.

“The only thing which makes me hesitate in coming to a decision,” observed Mr. Trevor, “is the doubt as to whether my dear girl would like being taken from her present bright home. Emmie has here so many sources of innocent amusement, so many young friends and pleasant companions, that it might be trying for her to be transplanted to a place which I cannot now represent as a cheerful abode, though I hope that it in time may become such.” Mr. Trevor, as he spoke, looked tenderly on his daughter, and pressed the hand which he held in his own.

“Oh, papa, do not think about me; I shall have you and my brothers,” said Emmie. It did not escape the notice of Arrows that his niece spoke with a little effort, and that her lip quivered as she uttered the words.

“You shall have a pony-chaise, too,” said her[28] father; “it will be needed to carry you to church on Sundays, and on week-days you shall drive about the country, explore the neighbourhood, or indulge a lady’s taste by shopping in S——.”

“And carry us back from our tutor’s,” interrupted Vibert; “for I suppose that a hansom is not to be got for love or money; and I’ve no fancy for trudging six miles every day, like a horse in a mill.”

By the time that the dressing-bell rang before dinner, the question of removing to Wiltshire was virtually settled. Emmie was too unselfish and high-principled to oppose a decision which approved itself both to her common sense and her conscience. She tried to hide from her father her strong repugnance to leaving Summer Villa, its pleasant associations and friendly society, in order to bury herself alive in a grand, gloomy house, quite out of repair, and with the name of being haunted besides.

[29]

CHAPTER III.
GOSSIP DOWNSTAIRS.

T

The topic which excited such interest in the drawing-room was certain to be eagerly discussed in the kitchen also. At the servants’ supper-table that night nothing was talked about but Myst Hall, and the probability of the Trevor family leaving Summer Villa to settle in Wiltshire.

“I’m certain that there will be a grand move soon, from what I heard while I was waiting at table,” said John the footman. “I mean to give warning to-morrow,” he added, shrugging his shoulders.

“You had better do nothing in a hurry,” observed Susan Pearl, a sensible, pleasant-looking woman, who had been Emmie’s attendant when she was a child, and who acted as her lady’s-maid now. “You may find that second thoughts are best, when the matter in question is throwing up a good place.”[30]

“Then master had better have his second thoughts too,” observed John, as he stretched out his hand for the walnut pickle. “A week of Myst Court was quite enough for me, I assure you. If you were to see how the mortar is starting from the brickwork, how the plaster is peeling from the ceilings, and how the furniture is faded; if you were to hear the windows shaking and rattling as if they had a fit of the ague, the boards creaking, and the long passages echoing, you would think any sensible man well out of so dreary a prison.”

“Plaster and paint can be put on anew, a carpet deadens echoes, and curtains keep out draughts. As for windows rattling, a peg will stop that,” observed Susan, who was not easily daunted.

“Outside the house it’s as bad as within,” pursued John. “The drive is green with moss and grass, and the piece of water with duckweed; the trees grow so thick together that you can’t see ten yards before you; and your ears are dinned with the cawing of rooks.”

“Weeding and clearing will do wonders,” said Susan; “if Miss Emmie were set in a coal-yard, she would manage to make flowers grow there.”

“Are there good shops near?” inquired Ann, the housemaid, who wore a cap of the newest pattern, trimmed with the gayest of ribbons.[31]

“Shops!” echoed John, as if amazed at the question. “Why, the very baker and grocer have to come in their carts from S——, and there’s nothing like a gentleman’s house within several miles of Myst Court.”

“I’ll give warning to-morrow,” said Ann. “As well be transported at once, as go to such a heathenish out-of-the-way place as that is!”

“I suppose that Myst Court is overrun with rats and mice,” observed Mullins the cook.

“Not a bit of it,” answered John, laughing. “Thieving rats and mice would have had a hard life of it with old Mrs. Myers’ nine and thirty cats and kittens to serve as a rural police.”

“La, John, you’re joking! nine and thirty!” exclaimed the women-servants in a breath.

“I’m not joking,” replied the footman; “I counted them,—black, white, gray, and tabby, long hair and short hair, blue eyes and green eyes! Mrs.