She was always a restless, wandering child from her early
years, and would have her little bed moved from one chamber to
another,--flitting round as the fancy took her. Sometimes she would drag
a mat and a pillow into one of the great empty rooms, and, wrapping
herself in a shawl, coil up and go to sleep in a corner. Nothing
frightened her; the "haunted" chamber, with the torn hangings that
flapped like wings when there was air stirring, was one of her favorite
retreats. She had been a very hard creature to manage. Her father could
influence, but not govern her. Old Sophy, born of a slave mother in the
house, could do more with her than anybody, knowing her by long
instinctive study. The other servants were afraid of her. Her father had
sent for governesses, but none of them ever stayed long. She made them
nervous; one of them had a strange fit of sickness; not one of them ever
came back to the house to see her. A young Spanish woman who taught her
dancing succeeded best with her, for she had a passion for that exercise,
and had mastered some of the most difficult dances.
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