My ladies' maid, who was troubled with nerves,
declared she could never sleep alone in such a "gashly, rummaging old
building;" and the footman, who was a kind-hearted young fellow, did
all in his power to cheer her up.
My aunt, herself, seemed to be struck with the lonely appearance of the
house. Before she went to bed, therefore, she examined well the
fastenings of the doors and windows, locked up the plate with her own
hands, and carried the keys, together with a little box of money and
jewels, to her own room; for she was a notable woman, and always saw to
all things herself. Having put the keys under her pillow, and dismissed
her maid, she sat by her toilet arranging her hair; for, being, in
spite of her grief for my uncle, rather a buxom widow, she was a little
particular about her person. She sat for a little while looking at her
face in the glass, first on one side, then on the other, as ladies are
apt to do, when they would ascertain if they have been in good looks;
for a roystering country squire of the neighborhood, with whom she had
flirted when a girl, had called that day to welcome her to the country.
All of a sudden she thought she heard something move behind her. She
Looked hastily round, but there was nothing to be seen. Nothing but the
grimly painted portrait of her poor dear man, which had been hung
against the wall. She gave a heavy sigh to his memory, as she was
accustomed to do, whenever she spoke of him in company; and went on
adjusting her nightdress.
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