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Updated: June 7, 2025
Off and on, I did many things for him of one sort or another, and made rather a nice addition to my salary out of doing them, till the devil, or he, or both, put it into my head to start as builder and speculator on my own account. "I had two hundred pounds and my furniture: that was the whole of my capital; but Elmsdale found me money.
We had not spoken a word, I think, for ten minutes, when a slip of paper was brought in, on which was written a name. "Ask her to walk in," said Mr. Craven, and, going to the door, he greeted the visitor, and led Miss Elmsdale into the room. I rose, irresolute; but she came forward, and, with a charming blush, held out her hand, and asked me some commonplace question about my health.
Everyone who beheld the pair together, remarked, "What a pity it was such a sweet creature should be married to such a bear!" but Mr. Elmsdale was no bear to his wife: he adored her.
We all laughed even Miss Elmsdale laughed at this frank confession; but when the ladies were gone, Mr. Craven, looking at me pityingly, remarked: "This is a most unfortunate business, Patterson. I hope I do hope, you will not be so foolish as to fall in love with Miss Elmsdale." To which I made no reply. The evil, if evil it were, was done.
Elmsdale could tolerate her sister's company, she might without difficulty have condoned her husband's want of acquaintance with some points of grammar and etiquette; and who said, amongst themselves, that whereas he only maltreated, Miss Blake mangled every letter in the alphabet; but these carping critics were in the minority. Mrs. Elmsdale was a beauty, and a martyr; Mr.
Even lodgers rebelled against their untidiness and want of punctuality. The eldest was very energetic and very determined, and the youngest very pretty and very conciliatory. Nevertheless, business is business, and lodgings are lodgings, and the Misses Blake were on the verge of beggary, when Mr. Elmsdale proposed for Miss Kathleen and was accepted. Mr.
Harringford the case was different. He and Elmsdale had been doing business together for years, "everything he possessed in the world," he stated to an admiring coroner's jury summoned to sit on Mr. Elmsdale's body and inquire into the cause of that gentleman's death "everything he possessed in the world, he owed to the deceased. Some people spoke hardly of him, but his experience of Mr.
"There is something queer about that house." "You don't think it is haunted, sir, do you?" I ventured. "Of course not," said Mr. Craven, irritably; "but I do think some one wants to keep the place vacant, and is succeeding admirably." The question I next put seemed irrelevant, but really resulted from a long train of thought. This was it: "Is Miss Elmsdale very handsome, sir?"
Craven, as well as to all the rest of those connected with the firm, the facts elicited by Serjeant Playfire were new as unwelcome. If the daughter of the house dreamed dreams and beheld visions, why should strangers be denied a like privilege? If Miss Elmsdale believed her father could not rest in his grave, how were we to compel belief as to calm repose on the part of yearly tenants?
There was Elmsdale, bluff in manner, short in person, red in the face, cumbersome in figure, addicted to naughty words, not nice about driving fearfully hard bargains, a man whom men hated, not undeservedly; and yet, nevertheless, a man capable of loving a woman with all the veins of his heart, and who might, had any woman been found to love him, have compassed earthly salvation.
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