"To what do you allude?" asked Miss Winter. "Has she been frightened?" "Why yes, ma'am. But I thought you knew of it, or I'd not have spoken. It was talked of a good deal at the Hall. She was badly frightened." "In what way?" "It was the night of the storm a few weeks ago," replied the landlady, vexed to have alluded to this before Miss Winter, as it seemed she did not know of it. "Betsy could not get to sleep for the noise; and between the gusts of wind, when all was momentarily still, she heard footsteps walking about the corridor outside her bedroom door. After a time she struck a light, and then, so she says, she distinctly saw the handle of her room door turn this way and that, as though somebody was trying to get in; but she had locked it on going to bed. She came down here to tell me of it the next day, and I tried to persuade her that it was nothing more than her own idle fancies that had frightened her, till at last she got quite out of temper with me. It must have taken great hold of her mind, I'm afraid, by the way she talks of it in her wanderings now." "I never heard anything of this," remarked Miss Winter. "But I cannot understand why Betsy need have been so much frightened. She might have guessed that the footsteps were but those of one or other of the maids, unable to sleep for the storm. And what more natural than that they should turn the handle of her door, intending to keep Betsy company?" "Yes, ma'am," assented Mrs. Keen, looking down. "If I were to allow myself to be frightened by all the unaccountable noises I hear in the night at the Hall, especially when the wind is high, I should never care to sleep there again," continued Miss Winter. "I have no doubt that all old houses are alike in that respect, especially when many of the rooms are empty." "Where is Susan?" interposed Maria, breaking the pause of silence. "She is gone out to do some errands, Miss Maria. Susan is a famous help to me in nursing Betsy." "Susan was always very gentle and patient," remarked Ella. "And always will be, I hope, ma'am," responded Mrs. Keen. "She is a girl that has very little to say for herself, as you know, young ladies. On most points she seems as sensible as other people are, but now and then her mind seems to go vacant, just as if it couldn't quite grasp what you are telling her; and her memory is not always to be trusted. But she's a dear good girl in helping me in the house; I don't know what I should do without her." "Does her sister's disappearance seem to prey upon her mind as much as it used to do?" and Miss Winter unconsciously lowered her voice as she put the question.