"Andre Norton - The Opal-Eyed Fan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

color in her cheeks, but her small mouth, with its pouting lower lip, was moistly red as if she had been recently sucking
a cinnamon sweetmeat.
Now she smiled, her beflowered head a little atilt, her dark-fringed eyes narrowed.
"I never did like that gown. The color is certainly more yours than mine." Her frank appraisal was deliv-ered in
a way which suggested there might be some-thing just a little common in being able to wear lemon muslin to any
advantage.
"I have to thank you very much for the loan of it," Persis returned with the same briskness. She must watch
her tongue. However, she did not greatly warm to Miss Lydia Leverett, even on this very short ac-quaintance. And it
was not like her to take such an in-stant aversion to anyone.
"Welcome to Lost Lady Key—" Lydia waved a hand to the chair opposite her own. "At least the storm is
over. If you sit here, you will have your back to the sea. Doubtless you have seen enough of that for the present!"
There was something about Miss Leverett's disre-gard of all social formalities and niceties which seemed to
put Persis on the defensive.
"Such an odd name—Lost Lady." She seized upon the first subject she could think of, not wishing to
dis-cuss the wreck.
"Not when you know the story. There was a lady and she was lost—or disappeared," Lydia returned. "She is
our ghost now. Be warned. Some say she brings ill luck to those natives unfortunate enough to meet her.
"This was a pirate hold a hundred years ago. In fact, the foundation of this house was part of a fort built by
Satin-shirt Jack. And before him there was the mound— that was made by the Old Ones." Lydia was watching her
guest, a queer little quirk about her lips as she paused. "Some of the islanders tell tales about them—all blood
and sacrifice. They were supposed to be giants able to shoot one of their arrows straight through a
Spaniard's breastplate.
"But the Spanish finally killed them all—unless that dirty old witch, Askra, is really one of them. She
looks as if she is old enough to be so, goodness knows. Then the pirates under Jack raided the Spanish and
killed all of them—except the lady. She was the Com-mandant's wife or daughter or something like that, so
Jack claimed her as part of his share. Until he was found dead and she was gone—
"The Spanish came back again—or so it went. Do I frighten you, Miss Rooke, with all these bloody
tales? This is a place which should be haunted—enough has happened here. And the islanders swear that
the ghosts do walk."
Persis smiled. If Lydia thought such childish stories were in the least alarming, she must have a
very low impression of Persis' intelligence. "Many old places have odd stories about them," she answered
com-posedly. "Even in New York."
"New York!" Lydia sat up straighter. "How I would like to go back to New York! Indeed, visit
almost any place apart from this one!" She arose abruptly and went to stand by the rail of the veranda,
looking frowningly out over Lost Lady Key.


2
"Have you been to New York then?" Persis eyed her hostess with some impatience. She was hungry, but it
was not polite to help herself without invitation.
Lydia's full skirts swirled out as she turned abrupt-ly. "Me—in New York?" She laughed angrily. "I
have been to school in Charlestown, and to Key West, and that is all—since Crewe chose to come here.
But I was born in New York—only now I can't remember it at all."
She came back to the table and twitched away the net with a vigor which matched her sharp tone.
"To be imprisoned here—it is enough to make one see ghosts—and have all sorts of strange
fancies when one is bored."
She ate only a few mouthfuls of bread spread with a thick conserve. But Persis made a healthy meal of
bis-cuits, some fruit that was strange to her, and several slices of ham cut paper thin but nonetheless tasty. There was
a custard, too, which had an unfamiliar fla-vor but which she relished.
Lydia put her elbows on the table, supported her chin on her clasped hands, and fastened her gaze on Persis.