till after his two years at St. Wulstan's.'
The reception of the travellers at Castle Blanch was certainly not mortifying by creating any excitement. Charles Charteris said his worst in the words, 'One week!' and his wife was glad to have some one to write her notes.
This indifference fretted Lucy. She found herself loathing the perfumy rooms, the sleepy voice, and hardly able to sit still in her restless impatience of Lolly's platitudes and Charles's
No one knew whether Miss Charlecote were still in town, nor whether Augusta Fulmort were to be married in England or abroad; and as to Miss Murrell, Lolly languidly wondered what it was that she had heard.
Hungering for some one whom she could trust, Lucilla took an early breakfast in her own room, and walked to Wrapworth, hoping to catch the curate lingering over his coffee and letters. From a distance, however, she espied his form disappearing in the school-porch, and approaching, heard his voice reading prayers, and the children's chanted response. Coming to the oriel, she looked in. There were the rows of shiny heads, fair, brown, and black; there were the long sable back and chopped-hay locks of the curate; but where a queen-like figure had of old been wont to preside, she beheld a tallow face, with sandy hair under the most precise of net caps, and a straight thread-paper shape in scanty gray stuff and white apron.
Dizzy with wrathful consternation, Cilla threw herself on one of the seats of the porch, shaking her foot, and biting her lip, frantic to know the truth, yet too much incensed to enter, even when the hum of united voices ceased, the rushing sound of rising was over, and measured footsteps pattered to the classes, where the manly interrogations sounded alternately with the shrill little answers.
Clump, clump, came the heavy feet of a laggard, her head bent over her book, her thick lips vainly conning the unlearned task, unaware of the presence of the young lady, till Lucilla touched her, saying, 'What, Martha, a ten o'clock scholar?'
She gave a little cry, opened her staring eyes, and dropped a curtsey.
'Whom have you here for mistress?' asked Lucilla.
'Please, ma'am, governess is runned away.'
'What do you mean?'
'Yes, ma'am,' replied the girl, developing powers of volubility such as scholastic relations with her had left unsuspected. 'She ran away last Saturday was a week, and there was nobody to open the school when we came to it a Sunday morning; and we had holidays all last week, ma'am; and mother was terrified {225} out of her life; and father, he said he wouldn't have me never go for to do no such thing, and that he didn't want no fine ladies, as was always spiting of me.'
'Every one will seem to spite you, if you keep no better hours,' said Lucy, little edified by Martha's virtuous indignation.
The girl had scarcely entered the school before the clergyman stood on the threshold, and was seized by both hands, with the words, 'Oh, Mr. Prendergast, what is this?'
'You here, Cilla? What's the matter? What has brought you back?'
'Had you not heard? A sprain of Ratia's, and other things. Never mind. What's all this?'
'Ah! I knew you would be sadly grieved!'
'So you did frighten her away!'
'I never meant it. I tried to act for the best. She was spoken to, by myself and others, but nobody could make any impression, and we could only give her notice to go at the harvest holidays. She took it with her usual grand air-'
'Which is really misery and despair. Oh, why did I go? Go on!'
'I wrote to the mother, advising her, if possible, to come and be with the girl till the holidays. That was on Thursday week, and the old woman promised to come on the Monday-wrote a very proper letter, allowing for the Methodistical phrases-but on the Saturday it was observed that the house was not opened, and on Sunday morning I got a note-if you'll come in I'll show it to you.'
He presently discovered it among multitudinous other papers on his chimney-piece. Within a lady-like envelope was a thick satin-paper, queen's-sized note, containing these words:
'REVEREND SIR,-It is with the deepest feelings of regret for the
unsatisfactory appearance of my late conduct that I venture to
address you, but time will enable me to account for all, and I can at
the present moment only entreat you to pardon any inconvenience I may
have occasioned by the precipitancy of my departure. Credit me,
reverend and dear sir, it was only the law of necessity that could
have compelled me to act in a manner that may appear questionable.
Your feeling heart will excuse my reserve when you are informed of
the whole. In the meantime, I am only permitted to mention that this
morning I became a happy wife. With heartfelt thanks for all the
kindness I have received, I remain,
'Reverend sir,
'Your obedient servant,
'EDNA.'
'Not one message to me?' exclaimed Lucilla.
'Her not having had the impudence is the only redeeming thing!'
'I did not think she would have left no word for me,' said Lucy, who knew she had been kinder than her wont, and was really wounded. 'Happy wife! Who can it be?'
'Happy wife?' repeated the curate. 'It is miserable fool, most likely, by this time.'
'No surname signed! What's the post-mark? Only Charing-cross. Could you find out nothing, or did you not think it worth while to look?'
'What do you take me for, Cilla? I inquired at the station, but she had not been there, and on the Monday I went to London and saw the mother, who was in great distress, for she had had a letter much like mine, only more unsatisfactory, throwing out absurd hints about grandeur and prosperity-poor deluded simpleton!'
'She distinctly says she is married.'
'Yes, but she gives no name nor place. What's that worth? After such duplicity as she has been practising so long, I don't know how to take her statement. Those people are pleased to talk of a marriage in the sight of heaven, when they mean the devil's own work!'
'No, no! I will not think it!'
'Then don't, my dear. You were very young and innocent, and thought no harm.'
'I'm not young-I'm not innocent!' furiously said Cilly. 'Tell me downright all you suspect.'
'I'm not given to suspecting,' said the poor clergyman, half in deprecation, half in reproof; 'but I am afraid it is a bad business. If she had married a servant or any one in her own rank, there would have been no need of concealing the name, at least from her mother. I feared at first that it was one of your cousin Charles's friends, but there seems more reason to suppose that one of the musical people at your concert at the castle may have thought her voice a good speculation for the stage.'
'He would marry her to secure her gains.'
'If so, why the secrecy?'
'Mrs. Jenkins has taught you to make it as bad as possible,' burst out Lucy. 'O, why was not I at home? Is it too late to trace her and proclaim her innocence!'
'I was wishing for your help. I went to Mr. Charteris to ask who the performers were, but he knew nothing about them, and said you and his sister had managed it all.'
'The director was Derval. He is fairly respectable, at least I know nothing to the contrary. I'll make Charlie write. There was an Italian, with a black beard and a bass voice, whom we have had several times. I saw him looking at her. Just tell me what sort of woman is the mother. She lets lodgings, does not she?'
'Yes, in Little Whittington-street.'
'Dear me! I trust she is no friend of Honor Charlecote's.'
'Out of her beat, I should think. She dissents.'
