"No, Gwynn, you don't trust me; you have your reasons, I suppose; but I think you are a shrewd woman--shrewd and mean well. I don't suppose that you could talk as you do without a reason; and though I can't see any myself, not believing in apparitions or--or--" She nearly lost the thread of her discourse at this point, for as she spoke the word apparition, the remembrance of the young gentleman whom she had seen in Wardlock Church rose in her memory--handsome, pale, with sealed lips, and great eyes--unreadable as night--the resurrection of another image. The old yearning and horror overpowered the train of her thoughts, and she floundered into silence, and coughed into her handkerchief, to hide her momentary confusion. "What was I going to say?" she said, briskly, meaning to refer her break-down to that little fit of coughing, and throwing on Gwynn the onus of setting her speech in motion again. "Oh! yes. I _don't_ believe in those things not a bit. But Jennie, poor thing, though she has not treated me quite as she might, is a young wife, and very pretty; and the house is full of wicked young men from London; and her old fool of a husband chooses to go about his business and leave her to her devices--_that's_ what you mean, Gwynn, and that's what I _understand_." "I have said all I can, my lady; you can help her, and be near her night and day," said Donica. "Sir Jekyl in his invitation bid me choose my own room--so I shall. I'll choose that oddly-shaped little room that opens into hers--if I remember rightly, the room that my poor dear Amy occupied in her last illness." "And, my lady, do you take the key of the door, and keep it in your bag, please." "Of the door of communication between the two rooms?" "Yes, my lady." "_Why_ should I take it; you would not have me lock her up?" "Well, no, to be sure, my lady." "Then _why_?" "Because there is no bolt to her door, inside or out. You will see what I mean, my lady, when you are there." "Because she can't secure her door without it, I'm to take possession of her key!" said Lady Alice, with a dignified sneer. "Well, my lady, it may seem queer, but you'll see what I mean." Lady Alice tossed her stately head. "Any commands in particular, please, my lady, before you leave?" inquired Donica, with one of her dry little courtesies. "No; and I must go. Just hand this pillow and bag to the man; and I suppose you wish your respects to Miss Beatrix?" To all which, in her own way, Donica Gwynn assented; and the old lady, assisted by her footman, got into the carriage, and nodded a pale and silent farewell to her housekeeper; and away drove the old carriage at a brisk pace toward Marlowe Manor. CHAPTER XIX. Lady Alice takes Possession.