You'll be very attentive to her, Mary Quince, for I--I
don't think she is very strong, and she must not grow nervous: so get to
bed early, and don't leave her alone--do you see?--and--and remember to
bolt the door, Mary Quince, and I shall be sending a little Christmas-box
to my cousin, and I shan't forget you. Good-night.'
And with a pleasant courtesy Mary fluttered out of the room.
CHAPTER XII
_A CURIOUS CONVERSATION_
We each had another cup of tea, and were silent for awhile.
'We must not talk of ghosts now. You are a superstitious little woman, you
know, and you shan't be frightened.'
And now Cousin Monica grew silent again, and looking briskly around the
room, like a lady in search of a subject, her eye rested on a small oval
portrait, graceful, brightly tinted, in the French style, representing
a pretty little boy, with rich golden hair, large soft eyes, delicate
features, and a shy, peculiar expression.
'It is odd; I think I remember that pretty little sketch, very long ago. I
think I was then myself a child, but that is a much older style of dress,
and of wearing the hair, too, than I ever saw.
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