But though young, I was neither nervous nor
imaginative; I was inclined to be what is termed stolid, that is to
say, extremely matter-of-fact and practical. Indeed, when my friends
exclaimed, "You don't mean to say you are going to stay at Glamis!
Don't you know it's haunted?" I burst out laughing.
"Haunted!" I said, "how ridiculous! There are no such things as
ghosts. One might as well believe in fairies."
Of course I did not go to Glamis alone--my mother and sister were with
me; but whereas they slept in the more modern part of the castle, I
was, at my own request, apportioned a room in the Square Tower.
I cannot say that my choice had anything to do with the secret
chamber. That, and the alleged mystery, had been dinned into my ears
so often that I had grown thoroughly sick of the whole thing. No, I
wanted to sleep in the Square Tower for quite a different reason, a
reason of my own. I kept an aviary; the tower was old; and I naturally
hoped its walls would be covered with ivy and teeming with birds'
nests, some of which I might be able to reach--and, I am ashamed to
say, plunder--from my window.
Alas, for my expectations! Although the Square Tower was so ancient
that in some places it was actually crumbling away--not the sign of a
leaf, not the vestige of a bird's nest could I see anywhere; the
walls were abominably, brutally bare. However, it was not long before
my disappointment gave way to delight; for the air that blew in
through the open window was so sweet, so richly scented with heather
and honeysuckle, and the view of the broad, sweeping, thickly wooded
grounds so indescribably charming, that, despite my inartistic and
unpoetical nature, I was entranced--entranced as I had never been
before, and never have been since.
Pages:
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166