Moreover, Lady Temple’s mind became extremely uneasy as to the manner in which Rachel might accept her exploit. All her valour departed as she figured to herself that young lady discrediting the alarm, and resenting her interference. She did not repent, she knew she could not have helped it, and she had rather have been tortured by Rachel than have left the victims another hour to the F.U.E.E., but she was full of nervous anxiety, little as she yet guessed at the full price of her courage; and she uttered more than once the fervent wish that the Colonel had been there, for he would have known what to do. And Alison each time replied, “I wish it with all my heart!”
Wrought up at last to the pitch of nervousness that must rush on the crisis at once, and take the bull by the horns, this valiant piece of cowardice declared that she could not even return the girls to their homes till Rachel knew all about it, and gave the word to drive to the Homestead, further cheered by the recollection that Colonel Keith would probably be there, having been asked to luncheon, as he could not dine out, to meet Mr. Grey. Moreover, Mr. Grey was a magistrate and would know what was to be done.
Thus the whole party at the Homestead were assembled near the door, when, discerning them too late to avoid them, Lady Temple’s equipage drew up in the peculiarly ungraceful fashion of wagonettes, when they prepare to shoot their passengers out behind.
Conrade, the only person who had the advantage of a previous view, stood up on the box, and before making his descent, shouted out, “Oh, Aunt Rachel, your F.U. thing is as bad as the Sepoys. But we have saved the two little girls that they were whipping to death, and have got them in the carriage.”
While this announcement was being delivered, Alison Williams, the nearest to the door, had emerged. She lifted out the little muffled figure of Lovedy, set her on her feet, and then looking neither to the right nor left, as if she saw and thought of no one else, made but one bound towards Colonel Keith, clasped both hands round his arm, turned him away from the rest, and with her black brows drawn close together, gasped under her breath, “O, Colin, Colin, it is Maria Hatherton.”
“What! the matron?”
“Yes, the woman that has used these poor children like a savage. O, Colin, it is frightful.”
“You should sit down, you are almost ready to faint.”
“Nothing! nothing! But the poor girls are in such a state. And that Maria whom we taught, and—” Alison stopped.
“Did she know you?”
“I can’t tell. Perhaps; but I did not know her till the last moment.”
“I have long believed that the man that Rose recognised was Mauleverer, but I thought the uncertainty would be bad for Ermine. What is all this?”
“You will hear. There! Listen, I can’t tell you; Lady Temple did it all,” said Alison, trying to draw away her arm from him, and to assume the staid governess. But he felt her trembling, and did not release her from his support as they fanned back to the astonished group, to which, while these few words were passing, Francis, the little bareheaded white-aproned Mary Morris, and lastly Lady Temple, had by this time been added; and Fanny, with quick but courteous acknowledgment of all, was singling out her cousin.
“Oh, Rachel, dear, I did not mean it to have been so sudden or before them all, but indeed I could not help it,” she said in her gentle, imploring voice, “if you only saw that poor dear child’s neck.”
Rachel had little choice what she should say or do. What Fanny was saying tenderly and privately, the two boys were communicating open-mouthed, and Mrs. Curtis came at once with her nervous, “What is it, my dear; is it something very sad? Those poor children look very cold, and half starved.”
“Indeed,” said Fanny, “they have been starved, and beaten, and cruelly used. I am very sorry, Rachel, but indeed that was a dreadful woman, and I thought Colonel Keith and Mr. Grey would tell us what ought to be done.”
“Mr. Grey!” and Mrs. Curtis turned round eagerly, with the comfort of having someone to support her, “will you tell us what is to be done? Here has poor dear Rachel been taken in by this wicked scheme, and these poor—”
“Mother, mother,” muttered Rachel, lashed up to desperation; “please not out here, before the servants and everyone.”
This appeal and Grace’s opening of the door had the effect of directing everyone into the hall, Mr. Grey asking Mrs. Curtis by the way, “Eh? Then this is Rachel’s new female asylum, is it?”
“Yes, I always feared there was something odd about it. I never liked that man, and now—Fanny, my love, what is the matter?”
In a few simple words Fanny answered that she had contrived to be left alone with the children, and had then found signs of such shocking ill-treatment of them, that she had thought it right to bring them away at once.
“And you will commit those wretches. You will send them to prison at once, Mr. Grey. They have been deceiving my poor Rachel ever so long, and getting sums upon sums of money out of her,” said Mrs. Curtis, becoming quite bloodthirsty.
“If there is sufficient occasion I will summon the persons concerned to the Bench on Wednesday,” said Mr. Grey, a practical, active squire.
“Not till Wednesday!” said Mrs. Curtis, as if she thought the course of justice very tardy. But
