"No, I had no idea of that," she said. "That puts her duty beyond all question. I cannot understand her. I feel almost inclined to say I have no patience with her." In her excitement she walked on rapidly. They had just, for the second or third time in their stroll, reached the end of the long front terrace, where some steps led down to a straight but more shaded walk, running parallel with one side of the house. Hertha was beginning to go down the steps, when Celia laid her hand on her arm. Turning in some surprise, Miss Norreys saw that she was paler than usual. "Not down there, please," she said. "I do dislike that walk: it is so gloomy, and--to tell you the truth, that is the path leading up from the old bowling-green, that they say is haunted." Hertha could scarcely help laughing. Here, in the broad daylight, it seemed so absurd to be afraid of such things. "I should, all the same, like to explore it," she said. "Now I come to think of it, I don't think I have been down there at all. But of course we won't go that way if you would rather not;" and she good-naturedly turned back. "I don't generally mind so much," said Celia, looking rather ashamed. "But--she, or it, really has been seen lately--they call her `The White Weeper'," and she instinctively lowered her voice a little. "I mind it just now, because, you see, it seems so mixed up with Winifred." Miss Norreys looked puzzled. "Mixed up with Winifred?" she repeated, "how do you mean? What is the story of the White Weeper?" So Celia related, as she had done to Eric Balderson, the old legend; entering into it in somewhat fuller detail than to that semi-sceptical person. For, as she went on, she saw that Hertha was not at all inclined to laugh at it; on the contrary, she looked as interested and impressed as could be desired. "It is strange," she said, when Celia stopped. "A curious tradition to have been handed down through so many generations. And I cannot see but that we should sometimes take these things as warnings or guides to a certain extent. Then the reason of Winifred's annoyance, whenever it is mentioned, is that the White Weeper would evidently not approve of _her_ present line?" "Yes," said Celia. "And--it does seem distinct. She," and the girl gave a half-frightened look over her shoulder in the direction of the shady walk, "she has been seen lately, two or three times. And the people who have seen her were in more than one instance strangers here-- and even those who have heard about the ghost don't know the _reason_ of her coming. They only think it portends some trouble. But I do think it strange that she should have begun to come so much more since Winifred has been so determined on leaving home." "You don't disapprove altogether, at least you _did_ not, of her ideas?" said Hertha. Celia looked unhappy.