back with unalloyed delight, which provided me, moreover, with the
setting and one of the main themes of _Marcella_. We were at that time
half-way through the building of a house at Haslemere, which was to
supersede Borough Farm. We had grown out of Borough and were for the
moment houseless, so far as summer quarters were concerned. And for my
work's sake, I felt that eagerness for new scenes and suggestions which
is generally present, I think, in the story-teller of all shades.
Suddenly, in a house-agent's catalogue, we came across an astonishing
advertisement. Hampden House, on the Chiltern Hills, the ancestral home
of John Hampden, of ship-money fame, was to let for the summer, and for
a rent not beyond our powers. The new Lord Buckinghamshire, who had
inherited it, was not then able to live in it. It had, indeed, as we
knew, been let for a while, some years earlier, to our old friends, Sir
Mountstuart and Lady Grant Duff, before his departure for the
Governorship of Madras. The agents reported that it was scantily
furnished, but quite habitable; and without more ado we took it! I have
now before me the letter in which I reported our arrival, in mid-July,
to my husband, detained in town by his _Times_ work.

Hampden is enchanting!--more delightful than even I thought it would
be, and quite comfortable enough. Of course we want a multitude of
things--(baths, wine-glasses, tumblers, cans, etc.!) but those I can
hire from Wycombe. Our great deficiency is lamps! Last night we
crept about in this vast house, with hardly any light.... As to the
ghost, Mrs. Duval (the housekeeper) scoffs at it! The ghost-room is
the tapestry-room, from which there is a staircase down to the
breakfast-room. A good deal of the tapestry is loose, and when there
is any wind it flaps and flaps. Hence all the tales.... The servants
are rather bewildered by the size of everything, and--like me--were
almost too excited to sleep.... The children are wandering