The Haunted Hotel / Отель с привидениями

�Is it quite reasonable to be so angry with her, because your brother preferred her to me?’ she asked.

Henry turned on her sharply.

�Do you defend the Countess?’

�Why not?’ Agnes answered. �I know nothing against her. On the day when we met, she appeared to be a timid, nervous person, looking dreadfully ill. She fainted under the heat of the room. We know that she did not want to hurt me; we know that she was not aware of my engagement.’

Henry lifted his hand impatiently, and stopped her.

�Try to forget them both, Agnes!’ he interposed.

Agnes laid her hand on his arm.

�You are very good to me, Henry; but you don’t quite understand me. I was wondering whether my feeling for your brother could really pass away. I have destroyed the last visible things that remind me of him. In this world I shall see him no more. But is the tie that once bound us, completely broken? What do you think, Henry? I can hardly believe it.’

The old nurse appeared again at the door, announcing another visitor.

�I’m sorry to disturb you, my dear. But here is Mrs. Ferrari. She wants to know when she may say a few words to you.’

Agnes turned to Henry, before she replied.

�You remember Emily Bidwell, my favourite pupil years ago at the village school, and afterwards my maid? She left me, to marry an Italian courier, named Ferrari.’

Henry rose.

�I will be glad to see Emily at any other time,’ he said. �But I will go now.

My mind is disturbed, Agnes. I will cross the Channel[15 - the Channel – Ла-Манш] tonight. A few weeks’ change will help me, I hope.’

He took her hand.

�Is there anything in the world that I can do for you?’ he asked very earnestly.

She thanked him, and tried to release her hand.

�God bless you, Agnes!’ he said.

Her face flushed again. He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it fervently, and left the room. The nurse hobbled after him.

�Don’t be sad, Master Henry,’ whispered the old woman.

�Try her again, when you come back!’

Agnes tried to compose herself. She paused before a little water-colour drawing[16 - water-colour drawing – акварель] on the wall, which had belonged to her mother. It was her own portrait when she was a child.

The courier’s wife entered – a little meek melancholy woman, with white eyelashes, and watery eyes. Agnes shook hands with her kindly.