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Jack entered behind him, and went straight to Chris. He took her quivering hands into his, and held them fast. "That boy deserves to be horsewhipped for startling you like this," he said. She smiled at him wanly, but not as if she heard his words. "You will stay with me, Jack?" she said beseechingly. "If you wish it, dear. But Trevor wants to say something rather private.
There were footsteps on the stairs; and Sir James came in. He came straight across to his son and sat down by him. Chris looked at him. The old man nodded. "Yes, my son," he said, "they are at it. Nothing is to be left, but the cloister and guest-house. The church is to be down in a week they say." Chris looked at him dully. "All?" he said. "All the church, my son."
Oh, dear!" she wailed, rocking herself, and then glanced nervously over her shoulder, remembering the mysterious cause of the disaster. The next moment swiftly she released the injured foot and sprang up. A man, attired in white linen, had emerged from the Magic Cave. He stood a second looking at her, then came bounding towards her over the rocks. Chris shrank back against her boulder.
There was more of restraint than emotion in his utterance. He spoke as a man who knows himself to be upon holy ground. And Chris was awed. The very quietness of the man made her tremble. She knew instinctively that here was something colossal, something that dominated her, albeit half against her will. She closed her fingers very tightly upon his hand, but she said nothing.
"And yet you have not mentioned Captain Rodolphe to him?" said Aunt Philippa. Her eyes were fixed unsparingly upon the girl's face, and she saw the colour dying away as swiftly as it had risen. "That is strange," she remarked, with emphasis. "It is not strange!" flashed back Chris. The laugh had gone from her lips, leaving them white, but she faced her adversary unflinchingly.
"You see, the boys would laugh, and no one but me really believes the house is haunted," she explained. Of course Sylvia promised, but she was puzzled by Flora's request. It was decided that Ralph and Philip should ride back to Charleston that afternoon when Uncle Chris drove the little visitors home, and that Flora should stay at the plantation with her mother for a day or two.
He smiled pleasantly at the young man, and Chris felt a little ashamed. There was silence for a moment. "It is for you to choose," said the Prior again, "you have been happy with us, I think?" Chris pressed his lips together and looked down. "Of course Satan will not leave you alone," went on the monk presently. "He will suggest many reasons against your profession.
They surveyed Mordaunt with open criticism. He was smoking a very foul-smelling cigarette. Chris was very rosy. "Max," she said, "this is Trevor!" "Hullo!" said Max again. He extended a careless hand and gave his future brother-in-law a hard grip. There was no particular friendliness in the action, it was evidently his custom to grip hard. "Come to investigate your new abode?" he said.
When they had gone some distance Christian said: "I'm going to get his pictures, and take charge of them!" "Oh!" said Greta timidly. "If you are afraid," said Christian, "you had better go back home." "I am not afraid, Chris," said Greta meekly. Neither girl spoke again till they had taken the path along the wall. Over the tops of the vines the heat was dancing.
I'll tell you the whole thing, then . . . then I suppose you will be terribly angry and make a fuss." "I'm not much of a lad, as Freddie Rooke would say, for making fusses. And I can't imagine being terribly angry with you." "Well, I'll risk it. Though, if I wasn't a brave girl, I should leave Uncle Chris to explain for himself and simply run away." "Anything is better than that.
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