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Updated: July 29, 2025
I hope, Mr. Moulton, you'll be able to come to Morelands on the twenty- fifth. Mr. Moulton said that nothing would give him more pleasure, and feeling that Lady Castlerich intended that his charms should for ever obliterate Agnes' conventual aspiration he leaned towards her and asked her if she knew Yorkshire. Morelands was in Yorkshire.
She had answered his questions briefly, and he had returned to his exchange of gallantries with Lady Castlerich, who he hoped would invite him to Morelands. Agnes did not quite like him. She liked Mr. St. Clare better. St. Clare had asked her if she sang, and when she told him that she was leading soprano in the convent choir he had talked agreeably until Miss Dare said: 'Now, Mr. St.
Charmin', wasn't it; no one but a nice man could speak like that. So we've always remained friends, Appletown has his rooms at Morelands, and he does as he likes. He likes you, dear, he told me so. I've got a telegram from him, I'll show it to you after lunch. The servant announced Mr. Herbert St. Clare, a fastidiously-dressed man.
His conversation was, however, interrupted by Lady Castlerich, who said in her clear cracked voice: 'We must put Agnes in the haunted room amid the tapestries. 'No, no, don't frighten her, whispered the Major. 'But, father, I am not so easily frightened as that. 'Who haunts the tapestry-room? 'A nun, dear, so they say; Morelands was a monastery once a nunnery, I mean.
It is entirely connected with the Morelands. 'I wonder how she and our grandmother came to be such friends, said Jacinth. 'Lady Myrtle's old home was near here, and the Morelands didn't belong to this neighbourhood. 'No, but the Elvedons have another place in the north near your grandmother's old home, said Miss Mildmay, who was very well posted up in such matters.
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