Bit by bit Molly revealed the whole story, together with sundry items of the superstition attaching to the Friar's Keep. Very much gratified was she at the opportunity of doing it. The tale was encompassed by so many marvels, both of reality and imagination, by so much mystery, by so wide a field of wonder altogether, that others in Greylands, as well as Molly, thought it a red-letter day when they could find strange ears to impart it to.
Madame Guise sat down in a chair, her hands clasped before her, and forgetting the herbs. Molly saw how pale she looked; and felt prouder than any peacock at her own powers of narration.
"But what became of him, Mollee?" questioned the poor lady.
"Well, mum, that lies in doubt, you see. Some say he was spirited away by the Grey Monk."
Madame Guise shook her head. "That could not be," she said slowly, and somewhat in hesitation. "I don't like revenants myself--but that could not be."
"And others think," added Molly, dropping her voice, "that he was done away with by his uncle, Mr. Castlemaine. Master do, for one."
"Murdered," said the girl, plunging the herbs into the saucepan of water.
A shudder took Madame Guise from head to foot. Molly looked round at her: she was like one seized with ague.
"I am cold and fatigued with my long journey," she murmured, seeking to afford some plausible excuse to the round-eyed girl. "And it always startles one to hear talk of murder."
"So it do, mum," acquiesced Molly. "I dun'no which is worst to hear tell on; that or ghosts."
"But--this Friar's Keep that you talk of, Mollee--it may be that he fell from it by accident into the sea."
"Couldn't," shortly corrected Molly. "There ain't no way to fall--no opening. They be biling up beautiful, mum."
"And--was he never--never seen again since that night?" pursued Madame Guise, casting mechanically a glance on the steaming saucepan.
"Never seen nor heard on," protested Molly emphatically. "His clothes and his portmanteau and all his other things have stayed on here; but he has never come back to claim 'em."
Madame Guise put her hands on her pallid face, as if to hide the terror there. Molly, her work done, and about to depart, was sweeping the bits of stalks and herbs from the table into her clean check apron.