It was snowing when we
set out, and as it snowed all through the night and most of the next
day, the roads were completely blocked, and we had to remain at "The
Old White House" from Monday evening till the following Thursday. Aunt
Norah and I occupied separate bedrooms, and mine was at the end of a
long passage away from everybody else's. Prior to this my mother and I
had always shared a room--the only really pleasant one, so I thought,
in the house--overlooking the front lawn. But on this occasion there
being a number of visitors, belated like ourselves, we had to squeeze
in wherever we could; and as my aunt and I were to have separate rooms
(my aunt liking a room to herself), it was natural that she should be
allotted the largest and most comfortable. Consequently, she was
domiciled in the wing where all the other visitors slept, whilst I was
forced to retreat to a passage on the other side of the house, where,
with the exception of my apartment, there were none other but
lumber-rooms. All went smoothly and happily, and nothing interrupted
the harmony of our visit, till the night before we returned home. We
had had supper--our meals were differently arranged in those days--and
Margaret and I were ascending the staircase on our way to bed, when
Alice, who had run upstairs ahead of us, met us with a scared face.
"Oh, do come to my room!" she cried. "Something has happened to Mary."
(Mary was one of the housemaids.)
We both accompanied her, and, on entering her room, found Mary seated
on a chair, sobbing hysterically.
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