‘What an adventure you had last night!’ she said. ‘It was well you did not fall.’ ‘That wouldn’t have been much worse than having to stop where we were,’ I answered. The conversation thus commenced went on until I had told them all my history, including my last adventure. ‘You must have dreamed it,’ said the lady. ‘So I thought, ma’am,’ I answered, ‘until I found that my sword was gone.’ ‘Are you sure you looked everywhere?’ she asked. ‘Indeed, I did.’ ‘It does not follow however that the ghost took it. It is more likely Mrs Wilson came in to see you after you were asleep, and carried it off.’ ‘Oh yes!’ I cried, rejoiced at the suggestion; ‘that must be it. I shall ask her.’ ‘I am sure you will find it so. Are you going home soon?’ ‘Yes--as soon as I’ve had my breakfast. It’s a good walk from here to Aldwick.’ ‘So it is.--We are going that way too?’ she added thinkingly. ‘Mr. Elder is a great friend of papa’s--isn’t he, mamma?’ said the girl. ‘Yes, my dear. They were friends at college.’ ‘I have heard Mr Elder speak of Mr Osborne,’ I said. ‘Do you live near us?’ ‘Not very far off--in the next parish, where my husband is rector,’ she answered. ‘If you could wait till the afternoon, we should be happy to take you there. The pony-carriage is coming for us.’ ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ I answered; ‘but I ought to go immediately after breakfast. You won’t mention about the roof, will you? I oughtn’t to get Clara into trouble.’ ‘She is a wild girl,’ said Mrs Osborne; ‘but I think you are quite right.’ ‘How lucky it was I knew the library!’ said Mary, who had become quite friendly, from under her mother’s wing. ‘That it was! But I dare say you know all about the place,’ I answered. ‘No, indeed!’ she returned. ‘I know nothing about it. As we went to our room, mamma opened the door and showed me the library, else I shouldn’t have been able to help you at all.’ ‘Then you haven’t been here often?’ ‘No; and I never shall be again.--I’m going away to school,’ she added; and her voice trembled. ‘So am I,’ I said. ‘I’m going to Switzerland in a month or two. But then I haven’t a mamma to leave behind me.’ She broke down at that, and hid her head on her mother’s bosom. I had unawares added to her grief, for her brother Charley was going to Switzerland too. I found afterwards that Mr Elder, having been consulted by Mr Osborne, had arranged with my uncle that Charley Osborne and I should go together. Mary Osborne--I never called her Polly as Clara did--continued so overcome by her grief, that her mother turned to me and said, ‘I think you had better go, Master Cumbermede.’