‘Then I hope you will enjoy a ride to-morrow,’ he said. ‘I think I have a horse that you will like, and Rose will lend you a riding-habit.’ I thanked him heartily; but Rose said decidedly: ‘I cannot go to Ashdene to-morrow; you forget that it is my day for visiting the school.’ Mr Aslatt’s face changed, and a look passed across it, which I should have called a look of pain had not the cause been so trivial. ‘Surely you need not go to the school to-morrow, Rose,’ he said gently; ‘your visit is not of so much importance, but that Mr Hammond can manage without you for once.’ Rose’s face crimsoned and her lip pouted, but she made no reply; and Mr Aslatt hastily introduced another subject of conversation. But her brightness was gone for the rest of the evening; she replied shortly and coldly to her guardian’s remarks, and flatly refused to sing when he asked her to do so. It was evident that her conduct grieved him, for the look of pain was more clearly visible; but he shewed no sign of resentment, and the tone in which he bade her good-night was as affectionate as if her behaviour had been all that he could have desired. ‘This is the way to the haunted rooms,’ said Rose as we went up to bed together, opening as she spoke a door at the top of the draughty staircase. She raised her lamp, so that its light rendered visible the gloom of the dreary corridor. The air which met us had a close musty smell; and the grotesque figures carved on the oak panels, with the sculptures in the distance casting dim shadows on the opposite wall, had rather a weird appearance in the uncertain light. Suddenly a door creaked on its hinges, and Rose sprang back, uttering a faint cry, and hastily closed the door which communicated with this passage. ‘Did you hear that?’ she asked in an awe-struck whisper. ‘Why, you silly girl,’ I said laughingly, ‘what you heard was only the effect of the wind!’ She shook her head unbelievingly, and replied: ‘Well, remember, I warn you to shun that part of the house, especially when night is coming on.’