“If we once let servants and people think and talk of it as a haunted room nobody will ever like to occupy it again so long as this house stands,” he said. “Stories will be invented—those things shape themselves unawares in the human mind—sounds will be heard, and the whole house will become uninhabitable. We both love our house, Maria. Our own hands have fashioned it after our own hearts. It would be folly to put a brand upon it, and to say henceforward it shall be accursed to us. God knows I am sorry for Juanita’s sorrow, sorry for my own loss; but I look to you to help me in keeping our home bright and pleasant for our declining days.” It was the habit of her life to obey him and try to please him in all things; so she answered gently— “Of course, dear James, it shall be as you wish. I feel sure you are right. It would be wicked to shut up that lovely room”—with a faint shudder; “but I shall never go near the west window without thinking of—our dear boy. And I’m afraid Juanita will never be able to endure the room.” “Perhaps not. We can use the other rooms when she is here. She has her own house now; and I dare say it will be some time before she will care to cross this threshold. The house must seem fatal to her. It was her own caprice that brought him here. I’m afraid that recollection will torture her, poor child.” It was finally decided therefore that the drawing-room should be used nightly, as it had been in all the peaceful years that were gone. The lamps with their gay shades of rose or amber made spots of coloured light amidst tables heaped with flowers. All the choicest blooms that the hothouses or the gardens could produce were brought as of old, like offerings to a pagan shrine. The numberless toys upon the tables were set out in the old orderly disorder—porcelain and enamel bon-bon boxes on one table—antique watches and gold and silver snuff-boxes on another—bronzes, intaglios, coins, medals, filigree scent bottles upon a third, and a background of flowers everywhere. The piano was opened, and the candles lighted ready for her ladyship, who sang Spanish ballads delightfully even yet, and who was in the habit of singing to her husband of an evening whenever they were alone. They were generally alone now, not being able to receive visitors from the outside world at such a time. The vicar of the parish dined at Cheriton now and then, and Matthew Dalbrook spent a night there occasionally, and talked over business matters, and the future development of a tract of land at Swanage, which formed a portion of the original Strangway estate.