Of my Uncle Hugh I saw little , save when he went and came on the business of his estate , somewhat more gravely and silently than of yore , or brought to me books and sweetmeats from town . But every day I was with Alicia in the Red Room , where she would talk to me , oftentimes wildly and strangely , but always kindly . And though I think Mrs. Montressor liked our intimacy none too well , she said no word , and I came and went as I listed with Alicia , though never quite liking her strange ways and the restless fire in her eyes . Nor would I ever kiss her , after I had seen her lips pressed by the snake 's , though she sometimes coaxed me , and grew pettish and vexed when I would not ; but she guessed not my reason . March came in that year like a lion , exceedingly hungry and fierce , and my Uncle Hugh had ridden away through the storm nor thought to be back for some days . In the afternoon I was sitting in the wing hall , dreaming wondrous day-dreams , when Alicia called me to the Red Room . And as I went , I marvelled anew at her loveliness , for the blood was leaping in her face and her jewels were dim before the lustre of her eyes . Her hand , when she took mine , was burning hot , and her voice had a strange ring . `` Come , little Beatrice , '' she said , `` come talk to me , for I know not what to do with my lone self today . Time hangs heavily in this gloomy house . I do verily think this Red Room has an evil influence over me . See if your childish prattle can drive away the ghosts that riot in these dark old corners -- ghosts of a ruined and shamed life ! Nay , shrink not -- do I talk wildly ? I mean not all I say -- my brain seems on fire , little Beatrice . Come ; it may be you know some grim old legend of this room -- it must surely have one . Never was place fitter for a dark deed ! Tush ! never be so frightened , child -- forget my vagaries . Tell me now and I will listen . '' Whereat she cast herself lithely on the satin couch and turned her lovely face on me .
So I gathered up my small wits and told her what I was not supposed to know -- how that , generations agone , a Montressor had disgraced himself and his name , and that , when he came home XXXXX his mother , she had met him in that same Red Room and flung at him taunts and reproaches , forgetting whose breast had nourished him ; and that he , frantic with shame and despair , turned his sword against his own heart and so died .
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