Well, dear, how is our friend the milliner? Madame is suffering so much from pain in her ear, that she says it would be quite impossible to have the honour Honourfiddle! I want to see what the womans like. Pain in her ear, you say? Poor thing! Well, dear, I think I can cure that in five minutes. I have it myself, now and then. Come to my room, and well get the bottles. So she lighted her candle in the lobby, and with a light and agile step she scaled the stairs, I following; and having found the remedies, we approached Madames room together. I think, while we were still at the end of the gallery, Madame heard and divined our approach, for her door suddenly shut, and there was a fumbling at the handle. But the bolt was out of order. Lady Knollys tapped at the door, sayingwell come in, please, and see you. Ive some remedies, which Im sure will do you good. There was no answer; so she opened the door, and we both entered. Madame had rolled herself in the blue coverlet, and was lying on the bed, with her face buried in the pillow, and enveloped in the covering. Perhaps shes asleep? said Lady Knollys, getting round to the side of the bed, and stooping over her. Madame lay still as a mouse. Cousin Monica set down her two little vials on the table, and, stooping again over the bed, began very gently with her fingers to lift the coverlet that covered her face. Madame uttered a slumbering moan, and turned more upon her face, clasping the coverlet faster about her. Madame, it is Maud and Lady Knollys. We have come to relieve your ear. Pray let me see it. She cant be asleep, shes holding the clothes so fast. Do, pray, allow me to see it. XI Lady Knollys Sees the Features Perhaps, if Madame had murmured, It is quite wellpray permit me to sleep, she would have escaped an awkwardness. But having adopted the role of the exhausted slumberer, she could not consistently speak at the moment; neither would it do by main force, to hold the coverlet about her face, and so her presence of mind forsook her. Cousin Monica drew it back and hardly beheld the profile of the sufferer, when her goodhumoured face was lined and shadowed with a dark curiosity and a surprise by no means pleasant. She stood erect beside the bed, with her mouth firmly shut and drawn down at the corners, in a sort of recoil and perturbation, looking down upon the patient. So thats Madame de la Rougierre? at length exclaimed Lady Knollys, with a very stately disdain. I think I never saw anyone look more shocked. Madame sat up, very flushed. No wonder, for she had been wrapped so close in the coverlet. She did not look quite at Lady Knollys, but straight before her, rather downward, and very luridly. I was very much frightened and amazed, and felt on the point of bursting into tears. So, Mademoiselle, you have married, it seems, since I had last the honour of seeing you? I did not recognise Mademoiselle under her new name. YesI am married, Lady Knollys; I thought everyone who knew me had heard of that. Very respectably married, for a person of my rank. I shall not need long the life of a governess. There is no harm, I hope? I hope not, said Lady Knollys, drily, a little pale, and still looking with a dark sort of wonder upon the flushed face and forehead of the governess, who was looking downward, straight before her, very sulkily and disconcerted. I suppose you have explained everything satisfactorily to Mr. Ruthyn, in whose house I find you? said Cousin Monica. Yes, certainly, everything he requiresin effect there is nothing to explain. I am ready to answer to any question. Let him demand me. Very good, Mademoiselle. Madame, if you please. I forgotMadameyes, I shall apprise him of everything. Madame turned upon her a peaked and malign look, smiling askance with a stealthy scorn. For myself, I have nothing to conceal. I have always done my duty. What fine scene about nothing absolutelywhat charming remedies for a sick person! Ma foi! how much oblige I am for these so amiable attentions! So far as I can see, MademoiselleMadame, I meanyou dont stand very much in need of remedies. Your ear and head dont seem to trouble you just now. I fancy these pains may now be dismissed. Lady Knollys was now speaking French. Mi ladi has diverted my attention for a moment, but that does not prevent that I suffer frightfully. I am, of course, only poor governess, and such people perhaps ought not to have painat least to show when they suffer. It is permitted us to die, but not to be sick. Come, Maud, my dear, let us leave the invalid to her repose and to nature. I dont think she needs my chloroform and opium at present. Mi ladi is herself a physic which chases many things, and powerfully affects the ear. I would wish to sleep, notwithstanding, and can but gain that in silence, if it pleases mi ladi. Come, my dear, said Lady Knollys, without again glancing at the scowling, smiling, swarthy face in the bed; let us leave your instructress to her concforto. The room smells all over of brandy, my deardoes she drink? said Lady Knollys, as she closed the door, a little sharply. I am sure I looked as much amazed as I felt, at an imputation which then seemed to me so entirely incredible. Good little simpleton! said Cousin Monica, smiling in my face, and bestowing a little kiss on my cheek; such a thing as a tipsy lady has never been dreamt of in your philosophy. Well, we live and learn. Let us have our tea in my roomthe gentlemen, I dare say, have retired. I assented, of course, and we had tea very cosily by her bedroom fire. How long have you had that woman? she asked suddenly, after, for her, a very long rumination. She came in the beginning of Februarynearly ten months agois not it? And who sent her? I really dont know; papa tells me so littlehe arranged it all himself, I think. Cousin Monica made a sound of acquiescenceher lips closed and a nod, frowning hard at the bars. It is very odd! she said; how people can be such fools! Here there came a little pause. And what sort of person is shedo you like her? Very wellthat is, pretty well. You wont tell?but she rather frightens me. Im sure she does not intend it, but somehow I am very much afraid of her. She does not beat you? said Cousin Monica, with an incipient frenzy in her face that made me love her. Oh no! Nor illuse you in any way? No. Upon your honour and word, Maud? No, upon my honour. You know I wont tell her anything you say to me; and I only want to know, that I may put an end to it, my poor little cousin. Thank you, Cousin Monica very much; but really and truly she does not illuse me. Nor threaten you, child? Well, nono, she does not threaten. And how the plague does she frighten you, child? Well, I reallyIm half ashamed to tell youyoull laugh at meand I dont know that she wishes to frighten me. But there is something, is not there, ghosty, you know, about her? Ghostyis there? well, Im sure I dont know, but I suspect theres something devilishI mean, she seems roguishdoes not she? And I really think she has had neither cold nor pain, but has just been shamming sickness, to keep out of my way. I perceived plainly enough that Cousin Monicas damnatory epithet referred to some retrospective knowledge, which she was not going to disclose to me. You knew Madame before, I said. Who is she? She assures me she is Madame de la Rougierre, and, I suppose, in French phrase she so calls herself, answered Lady Knollys, with a laugh, but uncomfortably, I thought. Oh, dear Cousin Monica, do tell meis sheis she very wicked? I am so afraid of her! How should I know, dear Maud? But I do remember her face, and I dont very much like her, and you may depend on it. I will speak to your father in the morning about her, and dont, darling, ask me any more about her, for I really have not very much to tell that you would care to hear, and the fact is I wont say any more about herthere! And Cousin Monica laughed, and gave me a little slap on the cheek, and then a kiss. Well, just tell me this Well, I wont tell you this, nor anythingnot a word, curious little woman. The fact is, I have little to tell, and I mean to speak to your father, and he, I am sure, will do what is right; so dont ask me any more, and let us talk of something pleasanter. There was something indescribably winning, it seemed to me, in Cousin Monica. Old as she was, she seemed to me so girlish, compared with those slow, unexceptionable young ladies whom I had met in my few visits at the county houses. By this time my shyness was quite gone, and I was on the most intimate terms with her. You know a great deal about her, Cousin Monica, but you wont tell me. Nothing I should like better, if I were at liberty, little rogue; but you know, after all, I dont really say whether I do know anything about her or not, or what sort of knowledge it is. But tell me what you mean by ghosty, and all about it. So I recounted my experiences, to which, so far from laughing at me, she listened with very special gravity. Does she write and receive many letters? I had seen her write letters, and supposed, though I could only recollect one or two, that she received in proportion. Are you Mary Quince? asked my lady cousin. Mary was arranging the windowcurtains, and turned, dropping a courtesy affirmatively toward her. You wait on my little cousin, Miss Ruthyn, dont you? Yes, m, said Mary, in her genteelest way. Does anyone sleep in her room? Yes, m, Iplease, my lady. And no one else? No, mplease, my lady. Not even the governess, sometimes? No, please, my lady. Never, you are quite sure, my dear? said Lady Knollys, transferring the question to me. Oh no, never, I answered. Cousin Monica mused gravely, I fancied even anxiously, into the grate; then stirred her tea and sipped it, still looking into the same point of our cheery fire. I like your face, Mary Quince; Im sure you are a good creature, she said, suddenly turning toward her with a pleasant countenance. Im very glad you have got her, dear. I wonder whether Austin has gone to his bed yet! I think not. I am certain he is either in the library or in his private roompapa often reads or prays alone at night, andand he does not like to be interrupted. No, no; of course notit will do very well in the morning. Lady Knollys was thinking deeply, as it seemed to me. And so you are afraid of goblins, my dear, she said at last, with a faded sort of smile, turning toward me; well, if I were, I know what I should doso soon as I, and good Mary Quince here, had got into my bedchamber for the night, I should stir the fire into a good blaze, and bolt the doordo you see, Mary Quince?bolt the door and keep a candle lighted all night. Youll be very attentive to her, Mary Quince, for II dont think she is very strong, and she must not grow nervous so get to bed early, and dont leave her alonedo you see?andand remember to bolt the door, Mary Quince, and I shall be sending a little Christmasbox to my cousin, and I shant forget you. Good night. And with a pleasant courtesy Mary fluttered out of the room. XII A Curious Conversation We each had another cup of tea, and were silent for awhile. We must not talk of ghosts now. You are a superstitious little woman, you know, and you shant be frightened. And now Cousin Monica grew silent again, and looking briskly around the room, like a lady in search of a subject, her eye rested on a small oval portrait, graceful, brightly tinted, in the French style, representing a pretty little boy, with rich golden hair, large soft eyes, delicate features, and a shy, peculiar expression. It is odd; I think I remember that pretty little sketch, very long ago. I think I was then myself a child, but that is a much older style of dress, and of wearing the hair, too, than I ever saw. I am just fortynine now. Oh dear, yes; that is a good while before I was born. What a strange, pretty little boy! a mysterious little fellow. Is he quite sincere, I wonder? What rich golden hair! It is very clevera French artist, I dare sayand who is that little boy? I never heard. Someone a hundred years ago, I dare say. But there is a picture downstairs I am so anxious to ask you about! Oh! murmured Lady Knollys, still gazing dreamily on the crayon. It is the fulllength picture of Uncle SilasI want to ask you about him. At mention of his name, my cousin gave me a look so sudden and odd as to amount almost to a start. Your uncle Silas, dear? It is very odd, I was just thinking of him; and she laughed a little. Wondering whether that little boy could be he. And up jumped active Cousin Monica, with a candle in her hand, upon a chair, and scrutinised the border of the sketch for a name or a date. Maybe on the back? said she. And so she unhung it, and there, true enough, not on the back of the drawing, but of the frame, which was just as good, in penandink round Italian letters, hardly distinguishable now from the discoloured wood, we traced Silas Aylmer Ruthyn, tate viii. 15 May, 1779. It is very odd I should not have been told or remembered who it was. I think if I had ever been told I should have remembered it. I do recollect this picture, though, I am nearly certain. What a singular childs face! And my cousin leaned over it with a candle on each side, and her hand shading her eyes, as if seeking by aid of these fair and halfformed lineaments to read an enigma. The childish features defied her, I suppose; their secret was unfathomable, for after a good while she raised her head, still looking at the portrait, and sighed. A very singular face, she said, softly, as a person might who was looking into a coffin. Had not we better replace it? So the pretty oval, containing the fair golden hair and large eyes, the pale, unfathomable sphinx, remounted to its nail, and the funeste and beautiful child seemed to smile down oracularly on our conjectures. So is the face in the large portraitvery singularmore, I think, than thathandsomer too. This is a sickly child, I think; but the fulllength is so manly, though so slender, and so handsome too. I always think him a hero and a mystery, and they wont tell me about him, and I can only dream and wonder. He has made more people than you dream and wonder, my dear Maud. I dont know what to make of him. He is a sort of idol, you know, of your fathers, and yet I dont think he helps him much. His abilities were singular; so has been his misfortune; for the rest, my dear, he is neither a hero nor a wonder. So far as I know, there are very few sublime men going about the world. You really must tell me all you know about him, Cousin Monica. Now dont refuse. But why should you care to hear? There is really nothing pleasant to tell. That is just the reason I wish it. If it were at all pleasant, it would be quite commonplace. I like to hear of adventures, dangers, and misfortunes; and above all, I love a mystery. You know, papa will never tell me, and I dare not ask him; not that he is ever unkind, but, somehow, I am afraid; and neither Mrs. Rusk nor Mary Quince will tell me anything, although I suspect they know a good deal. I dont see any good in telling you, dear, nor, to say the truth, any great harm either. Nonow thats quite trueno harm. There cant be, for I must know it all some day, you know, and better now, and from you, than perhaps from a stranger, and in a less favourable way. Upon my word, it is a wise little woman; and really, thats not such bad sense after all. So we poured out another cup of tea each, and sipped it very comfortably by the fire, while Lady Knollys talked on, and her animated face helped the strange story. It is not very much, after all. Your uncle Silas, you know, is living? Oh yes, in Derbyshire. So I see you do know something of him, sly girl! but no matter. You know how very rich your father is; but Silas was the younger brother, and had little more than a thousand a year. If he had not played, and did not care to marry, it would have been quite enoughever so much more than younger sons of dukes often have; but he waswell, a mauvais sujetyou know what that is. I dont want to say any ill of himmore than I really knowbut he was fond of his pleasures, I suppose, like other young men, and he played, and was always losing, and your father for a long time paid great sums for him. I believe he was really a most expensive and vicious young man; and I fancy he does not deny that now, for they say he would change the past if he could. I was looking at the pensive little boy in the oval frameaged eight yearswho was, a few springs later, a most expensive and vicious young man, and was now a suffering and outcast old one, and wondering from what a small seed the hemlock or the wallflower grows, and how microscopic are the beginnings of the kingdom of God or of the mystery of iniquity in a human beings heart. Austinyour papawas very kind to himvery; but then, you know, hes an oddity, dearhe is an oddity, though no one may have told you beforeand he never forgave him for his marriage. Your father, I suppose, knew more about the lady than I didI was young thenbut there were various reports, none of them pleasant, and she was not visited, and for some time there was a complete estrangement between your father and your uncle Silas; and it was made up, rather oddly, on the very occasion which some people said ought to have totally separated them. Did you ever hear anythinganything very remarkableabout your uncle? No, never, they would not tell me, though I am sure they know. Pray go on. Well, Maud, as I have begun, Ill complete the story, though perhaps it might have been better untold. It was something rather shockingindeed, very shocking; in fact, they insisted on suspecting him of having committed a murder. I stared at my cousin for some time, and then at the little boy, so refined, so beautiful, so funeste, in the oval frame. Yes, dear, said she, her eyes following mine; whod have supposed he could ever havehave fallen under so horrible a suspicion? The wretches! Of course, Uncle Silasof course, hes innocent? I said at last. Of course, my dear, said Cousin Monica, with an odd look; but you know there are some things as bad almost to be suspected of as to have done, and the country gentlemen chose to suspect him. They did not like him, you see. His politics vexed them; and he resented their treatment of his wifethough I really think, poor Silas, he did not care a pin about herand he annoyed them whenever he could. Your papa, you know, is very proud of his familyhe never had the slightest suspicion of your uncle. Oh, no! I cried vehemently. Thats right, Maud Ruthyn, said Cousin Monica, with a sad little smile and a nod. And your papa was, you may suppose, very angry. Of course he was, I exclaimed. You have no idea, my dear, how angry. He directed his attorney to prosecute, by wholesale, all who had said a word affecting your uncles character. But the lawyers were against it, and then your uncle tried to fight his way through it, but the men would not meet him. He was quite slurred. Your father went up and saw the Minister. He wanted to have him a DeputyLieutenant, or something, in his county. Your papa, you know, had a very great influence with the government. Beside his county influence, he had two boroughs then. But the Minister was afraid, the feeling was so very strong. They offered him something in the Colonies, but your father would not hear of itthat would have been a banishment, you know. They would have given your father a peerage to make it up, but he would not accept it, and broke with the party. Except in that waywhich, you know, was connected with the reputation of the familyI dont think, considering his great wealth, he has done very much for Silas. To say truth, however, he was very liberal before his marriage. Old Mrs. Aylmer says he made a vow then that Silas should never have more than five hundred a year, which he still allows him, I believe, and he permits him to live in the place. But they say it is in a very wild, neglected state. You live in the same countyhave you seen it lately, Cousin Monica? No, not very lately, said Cousin Monica, and began to hum an air abstractedly. XIII Before and After Breakfast Next morning early I visited my favourite fulllength portrait in the chocolate coat and topboots. Scanty as had been my cousin Monicas notes upon this dark and eccentric biography, they were everything to me. A soul had entered that enchanted form. Truth had passed by with her torch, and a sad light shone for a moment on that enigmatic face. There stood the routhe duellistand, with all his faults, the hero too! In that dark large eye lurked the profound and fiery enthusiasm of his illstarred passion. In the thin but exquisite lip I read the courage of the paladin, who would have fought his way, though singlehanded, against all the magnates of his county, and by ordeal of battle have purged the honour of the Ruthyns. There in that delicate halfsarcastic tracery of the nostril I detected the intellectual defiance which had politically isolated Silas Ruthyn and opposed him to the landed oligarchy of his county, whose retaliation had been a hideous slander. There, too, and on his brows and lip, I traced the patience of a cold disdain. I could now see him as he wasthe prodigal, the hero, and the martyr. I stood gazing on him with a girlish interest and admiration. There was indignation, there was pity, there was hope. Some day it might come to pass that I, girl as I was, might contribute by word or deed towards the vindication of that longsuffering, gallant, and romantic prodigal. It was a flicker of the Joan of Arc inspiration, common, I fancy, to many girls. I little then imagined how profoundly and strangely involved my uncles fate would one day become with mine. I was interrupted by Captain Oakleys voice at the window. He was leaning on the windowsill, and looking in with a smilethe window being open, the morning sunny, and his cap lifted in his hand. Good morning, Miss Ruthyn. What a charming old place! quite the setting for a romance; such timber, and this really beautiful house. I do so like these white and black houseswonderful old things. By the by, you treated us very badly last nightyou did, indeed; upon my word, now, it really was too badrunning away, and drinking tea with Lady Knollysso she says. I reallyI should not like to tell you how very savage I felt, particularly considering how very short my time is. I was a shy, but not a giggling country miss. I knew I was an heiress; I knew I was somebody. I was not the least bit in the world conceited, but I think this knowledge helped to give me a certain sense of security and selfpossession, which might have been mistaken for dignity or simplicity. I am sure I looked at him with a fearless enquiry, for he answered my thoughts. I do really assure you, Miss Ruthyn, I am quite serious; you have no idea how very much we have missed you. There was a little pause, and, like a fool, I lowered my eyes, and blushed. II was thinking of leaving today; I am so unfortunatemy leave is just outit is so unlucky; but I dont quite know whether my aunt Knollys will allow me to go. I?certainly, my dear Charlie, I dont want you at all, exclaimed a voiceLady Knollyssbriskly, from an open window close by; what could put that in your head, dear? And in went my cousins head, and the window shut down. She is such an oddity, poor dear Aunt Knollys, murmured the young man, ever so little put out, and he laughed. I never know quite what she wishes, or how to please her; but shes so goodnatured; and when she goes to town for the seasonshe does not always, you knowher house is really very gayyou cant think Here again he was interrupted, for the door opened, and Lady Knollys entered. And you know, Charles, she continued, it would not do to forget your visit to Snodhurst; you wrote, you know, and you have only tonight and tomorrow. You are thinking of nothing but that moor; I heard you talking to the gamekeeper; I know he isis not he, Maud, the brown man with great whiskers, and leggings? Im very sorry, you know, but I really must spoil your shooting, for they do expect you at Snodhurst, Charlie; and do not you think this window a little too much for Miss Ruthyn? Maud, my dear, the air is very sharp; shut it down, Charles, and youd better tell them to get a fly for you from the town after luncheon. Come, dear, she said to me. Was not that the breakfast bell? Why does not your papa get a gong?it is so hard to know one bell from another. I saw that Captain Oakley lingered for a last look, but I did not give it, and went out smiling with Cousin Knollys, and wondering why old ladies are so uniformly disagreeable. In the lobby she said, with an odd, goodnatured look Dont allow any of his lovemaking, my dear. Charles Oakley has not a guinea, and an heiress would be very convenient. Of course he has his eyes about him. Charles is not by any means foolish; and I should not be at all sorry to see him well married, for I dont think he will do much good any other way; but there are degrees, and his ideas are sometimes very impertinent. I was an admiring reader of the Albums, the Souvenirs, the Keepsakes, and all that flood of Christmaspresent lore which yearly irrigated England, with pretty covers and engravings; and floods of elegant twaddlethe milk, not destitute of water, on which the babes of literature were then fed. On this, my genius throve. I had a little album, enriched with many gems of original thought and observation, which I jotted down in suitable language. Lately, turning over these faded leaves of rhyme and prose, I lighted, under this days date, upon the following sage reflection, with my name appended Is there not in the female heart an ineradicable jealousy, which, if it sways the passions of the young, rules also the advice of the aged? Do they not grudge to youth the sentiments (though Heaven knows how shadowed with sorrow) which they can no longer inspire, perhaps even experience; and does not youth, in turn, sigh over the envy which has power to blight? Maud Aylmer Ruthyn. He has not been making love to me, I said rather tartly, and he does not seem to me at all impertinent, and I really dont care the least whether he goes or stays. Cousin Monica looked in my face with her old waggish smile, and laughed. Youll understand those London dandies better some day, dear Maud; they are very well, but they like moneynot to keep, of coursebut still they like it and know its value. At breakfast my father told Captain Oakley where he might have shooting, or if he preferred going to Dilsford, only half an hours ride, he might have his choice of hunters, and find the dogs there that morning. The Captain smiled archly at me, and looked at his aunt. There was a suspense. I hope I did not show how much I was interestedbut it would not do. Cousin Monica was inexorable. Hunting, hawking, fishing, fiddlededee! You know, Charlie, my dear, it is quite out of the question. He is going to Snodhurst this afternoon, and without quite a rudeness, in which I should be involved too, he really cantyou know you cant, Charles! andand he must go and keep his engagement. So papa acquiesced with a polite regret, and hoped another time. Oh, leave all that to me. When you want him, only write me a note, and Ill send him or bring him if you let me. I always know where to find himdont I, Charlie?and we shall be only too happy. Aunt Monicas influence with her nephew was special, for she tipped him handsomely every now and then, and he had formed for himself agreeable expectations, besides, respecting her will. I felt rather angry at his submitting to this sort of tutelage, knowing nothing of its motive; I was also disgusted by Cousin Monicas tyranny. So soon as he had left the room, Lady Knollys, not minding me, said briskly to papa, Never let that young man into your house again. I found him making speeches, this morning, to little Maud here; and he really has not two pence in the worldit is amazing impudenceand you know such absurd things do happen. Come, Maud, what compliments did he pay you? asked my father. I was vexed, and therefore spoke courageously. His compliments were not to me; they were all to the house, I said, drily. Quite as it should bethe house, of course; it is that hes in love with, said Cousin Knollys.  Twas on a widows jointure land, The archer, Cupid, took his stand. Hey! I dont quite understand, said my father, slyly. Tut! Austin; you forget Charlie is my nephew. So I did, said my father. Therefore the literal widow in this case can have no interest in view but one, and that is yours and Mauds. I wish him well, but he shant put my little cousin and her expectations into his empty pocketnot a bit of it. And theres another reason, Austin, why you should marryyou have no eye for these things, whereas a clever woman would see at a glance and prevent mischief. So she would, acquiesced my father, in his gloomy, amused way. Maud, you must try to be a clever woman. So she will in her time, but that is not come yet; and I tell you, Austin Ruthyn, if you wont look about and marry somebody, somebody may possibly marry you. You were always an oracle, Monica; but here I am lost in total perplexity, said my father. Yes; sharks sailing round you, with keen eyes and large throats; and you have come to the age precisely when men are swallowed up alive like Jonah. Thank you for the parallel, but you know that was not a happy union, even for the fish, and there was a separation in a few days; not that I mean to trust to that; but theres no one to throw me into the jaws of the monster, and Ive no notion of jumping there; and the fact is, Monica, theres no monster at all. Im not so sure. But Im quite sure, said my father, a little drily. You forget how old I am, and how long Ive lived aloneI and little Maud; and he smiled and smoothed my hair, and, I thought, sighed. No one is ever too old to do a foolish thing, began Lady Knollys. Nor to say a foolish thing, Monica. This has gone on too long. Dont you see that little Maud here is silly enough to be frightened at your fun. So I was, but I could not divine how he guessed it. And well or ill, wisely or madly, Ill never marry; so put that out of your head. This was addressed rather to me, I think, than to Lady Knollys, who smiled a little waggishly on me, and said To be sure, Maud; maybe you are right; a stepdame is a risk, and I ought to have asked you first what you thought of it; and upon my honour, she continued merrily but kindly, observing that my eyes, I know not exactly from what feeling, filled with tears, Ill never again advise your papa to marry, unless you first tell me you wish it. This was a great deal from Lady Knollys, who had a taste for advising her friends and managing their affairs. Ive a great respect for instinct. I believe, Austin, it is truer than reason, and yours and Mauds are both against me, though I know I have reason on my side. My fathers brief wintry smile answered, and Cousin Monica kissed me, and said Ive been so long my own mistress that I sometimes forget there are such things as fear and jealousy; and are you going to your governess, Maud? XIV Angry Words I was going to my governess, as Lady Knollys said; and so I went. The undefinable sense of danger that smote me whenever I beheld that woman had deepened since last nights occurrence, and was taken out of the region of instinct or prepossession by the strange though slight indications of recognition and abhorrence which I had witnessed in Lady Knollys on that occasion. The tone in which Cousin Monica had asked, are you going to your governess? and the curious, grave, and anxious look that accompanied the question, disturbed me; and there was something odd and cold in the tone as if a remembrance had suddenly chilled her.


The accent remained in my ear, and the sharp brooding look was fixed before me as I glided up the broad dark stairs to Madame de la Rougierres chamber. She had not come down to the schoolroom, as the scene of my studies was called. She had decided on having a relapse, and accordingly had not made her appearance downstairs that morning. The gallery leading to her room was dark and lonely, and I grew more nervous as I approached; I paused at the door, making up my mind to knock. But the door opened suddenly, and, like a magiclantern figure, presented with a snap, appeared close before my eyes the great muffled face, with the forbidding smirk, of Madame de la Rougierre. Wat you mean, my dear cheaile? she inquired with a malevolent shrewdness in her eyes, and her hollow smile all the time disconcerting me more even than the suddenness of her appearance; wat for you approach so softly? I do not sleep, you see, but you feared, perhaps, to have the misfortune of wakening me, and so you cameis it not so?to leesten, and looke in very gentily; you want to know how I was. Vous tes bien aimable davoir pens  moi. Bah! she cried, suddenly bursting through her irony. Wy could not Lady Knollys come herself and leesten to the keyhole to make her report? Fidon, wat is there to conceal? Nothing. Enter, if you please. Everyone they are welcome! and she flung the door wide, turned her back upon me, and, with an ejaculation which I did not understand, strode into the room. I did not come with any intention, Madame, to pry or to intrudeyou dont think soyou cant think soyou cant possibly mean to insinuate anything so insulting! I was very angry, and my tremors had all vanished now. No, not for you, dear cheaile; I was thinking to miladi Knollys, who, without cause, is my enemy. Everyone has enemy; you will learn all that so soon as you are little older, and without cause she is mine. Come, Maud, speak a the truthwas it not miladi Knollys who sent you here doucement, doucement, so quaite to my dooris it not so, little rogue? Madame had confronted me again, and we were now standing in the middle of her floor. I indignantly repelled the charge, and searching me for a moment with her oddlyshaped, cunning eyes, she said That is good cheaile, you speak a so directI like that, and am glad to hear; but, my dear Maud, that woman Lady Knollys is papas cousin, I interposed a little gravely. She does hate a me so, you av no idea. She as tryed to injure me several times, and would employ the most innocent person, unconsciously you know, my dear, to assist her malice. Here Madame wept a little. I had already discovered that she could shed tears whenever she pleased. I have heard of such persons, but I never met another before or since. Madame was unusually frankno one ever knew better when to be candid. At present I suppose she concluded that Lady Knollys would certainly relate whatever she knew concerning her before she left Knowl; and so Madames reserves, whatever they might be, were dissolving, and she growing childlike and confiding. Et comment va monsieur votre pre aujourdhui? Very well, I thanked her. And how long miladi Knollys her visit is likely to be? I could not say exactly, but for some days. Eh bien, my dear cheaile, I find myself better this morning, and we must return to our lessons. Je veux mhabiller, ma chre Maud; you will wait me in the schoolroom. By this time Madame, who, though lazy, could make an effort, and was capable of getting into a sudden hurry, had placed herself before her dressingtable, and was ogling her discoloured and bony countenance in the glass. Wat horror! I am so pale. Quel ennui! wat bore! Ow weak av I grow in two three days! And she practised some plaintive, invalid glances into the mirror. But on a sudden there came a little sharp inquisitive frown as she looked over the frame of the glass, upon the terrace beneath. It was only a glance, and she sat down languidly in her armchair to prepare, I suppose, for the fatigues of the toilet. My curiosity was sufficiently aroused to induce me to ask But why, Madame, do you fancy that Lady Knollys dislikes you?  Tis not fancy, my dear Maud. Ah ha, no! Mais cest toute une histoiretoo tedious to tell nowsome time maybeand you will learn when you are little older, the most violent hatreds often they are the most without cause. But, my dear cheaile, the hours they are running from us, and I must dress. Vite, vite! so you run away to the schoolroom, and I will come after. Madame had her dressingcase and her mysteries, and palpably stood in need of repairs; so away I went to my studies. The room which we called the schoolroom was partly beneath the floor of Madames bedchamber, and commanded the same view; so, remembering my governesss peering glance from her windows, I looked out, and saw Cousin Monica making a brisk promenade up and down the terracewalk. Well, that was quite enough to account for it. I had grown very curious, and I resolved when our lessons were over to join her and make another attempt to discover the mystery. As I sat over my books, I fancied I heard a movement outside the door. I suspected that Madame was listening. I waited for a time, expecting to see the door open, but she did not come; so I opened it suddenly myself, but Madame was not on the threshold nor on the lobby. I heard a rustling, however, and on the staircase over the banister I saw the folds of her silk dress as she descended. She is going, I thought, to seek an interview with Lady Knollys. She intends to propitiate that dangerous lady; so I amused some eight or ten minutes in watching Cousin Monicas quick march and rightabout face upon the paradeground of the terrace. But no one joined her. She is certainly talking to papa, was my next and more probable conjecture. Having the profoundest distrust of Madame, I was naturally extremely jealous of the confidential interviews in which deceit and malice might make their representations plausibly and without answer. Yes, Ill run down and seesee papa; she shant tell lies behind my back, horrid woman! At the studydoor I knocked, and forthwith entered. My father was sitting near the window, his open book before him, Madame standing at the other side of the table, her cunning eyes bathed in tears, and her pockethandkerchief pressed to her mouth. Her eyes glittered stealthily on me for an instant she was sobbingdsole, in factthat grim grenadier lady, and her attitude was exquisitely dejected and timid. But she was, notwithstanding, reading closely and craftily my fathers face. He was not looking at her, but rather upward toward the ceiling, reflectively leaning on his hand, with an expression, not angry, but rather surly and annoyed. I ought to have heard of this before, Madame, my father was saying as I came in; not that it would have made any differencenot the least; mind that. But it was the kind of thing that I ought to have heard, and the omission was not strictly right. Madame, in a shrill and lamentable key, opened her voluble reply, but was arrested by a nod from my father, who asked me if I wanted anything. Onlyonly that I was waiting in the schoolroom for Madame, and did not know where she was. Well, she is here, you see, and will join you upstairs in a few minutes. So back I went again, huffed, angry, and curious, and sat back in my chair with a clouded countenance, thinking very little about lessons. When Madame entered, I did not lift my head or eyes. Good cheaile! reading, said she, as she approached briskly and reassured. No, I answered tartly; not good, nor a child either; Im not reading, Ive been thinking. Trsbien! she said, with an insufferable smile, thinking is very good also; but you look unhappyvery, poor cheaile. Take care you are not grow jealous for poor Madame talking sometime to your papa; you must not, little fool. It is only for a your good, my dear Maud, and I had no objection you should stay. You! Madame! I said loftily. I was very angry, and showed it through my dignity, to Madames evident satisfaction. Noit was your papa, Mr. Ruthyn, who weesh to speak alone; for me I do not care; there was something I weesh to tell him. I dont care who know, but Mr. Ruthyn he is deeferent. I made no remark. Come, leetle Maud, you are not to be so cross; it will be much better you and I to be good friends together. Why should a we quarrel?wat nonsense! Do you imagine I would anywhere undertake a the education of a young person unless I could speak with her parent?wat folly! I would like to be your friend, however, my poor Maud, if you would allowyou and I togetherwat you say? People grow to be friends by liking, Madame, and liking comes of itself, not by bargain; I like everyone who is kind to me. And so I. You are like me in so many things, my dear Maud! Are you quaite well today? I think you look fateague; so I feel, too, vary tire. I think we weel put off the lessons to tomorrow. Eh? and we will come to play la grace in the garden. Madame was plainly in a high state of exultation. Her audience had evidently been satisfactory, and, like other people, when things went well, her soul lighted up into a sulphureous goodhumour, not very genuine nor pleasant, but still it was better than other moods. I was glad when our calisthenics were ended, and Madame had returned to her apartment, so that I had a pleasant little walk with Cousin Monica. We women are persevering when once our curiosity is roused, but she gaily foiled mine, and, I think, had a mischievous pleasure in doing so. As we were going in to dress for dinner, however, she said, quite gravely I am sorry, Maud, I allowed you to see that I have any unpleasant impressions about that governess lady. I shall be at liberty some day to explain all about it, and, indeed, it will be enough to tell your father, whom I have not been able to find all day; but really we are, perhaps, making too much of the matter, and I cannot say that I know anything against Madame that is conclusive, oror, indeed, at all; but that there are reasons, andyou must not ask any moreno, you must not. That evening, while I was playing the overture to Cenerentola, for the entertainment of my cousin, there arose from the teatable, where she and my father were sitting, a spirited and rather angry harangue from Lady Knollys lips; I turned my eyes from the music towards the speakers; the overture swooned away with a little hesitating babble into silence, and I listened. Their conversation had begun under cover of the music which I was making, and now they were too much engrossed to perceive its discontinuance. The first sentence I heard seized my attention; my father had closed the book he was reading, upon his finger, and was leaning back in his chair, as he used to do when at all angry; his face was a little flushed, and I knew the fierce and glassy stare which expressed pride, surprise, and wrath. Yes, Lady Knollys, theres an animus; I know the spirit you speak init does you no honour, said my father. And I know the spirit you speak in, the spirit of madness, retorted Cousin Monica, just as much in earnest. I cant conceive how you can be so demented, Austin. What has perverted you? are you blind? You are, Monica; your own unnatural prejudiceunnatural prejudice, blinds you. What is it all?nothing. Were I to act as you say, I should be a coward and a traitor. I see, I do see, all thats real. Im no Quixote, to draw my sword on illusions. There should be no halting here. How can youdo you ever think? I wonder if you can breathe. I feel as if the evil one were in the house. A stern, momentary frown was my fathers only answer, as he looked fixedly at her. People need not nail up horseshoes and mark their doorstones with charms to keep the evil spirit out, ran on Lady Knollys, who looked pale and angry, in her way, but you open your door in the dark and invoke unknown danger. How can you look at that child thatsshes not playing, said Knollys, abruptly stopping. My father rose, muttering to himself, and cast a lurid glance at me, as he went in high displeasure to the door. Cousin Monica, now flushed a little, glanced also silently at me, biting the tip of her slender gold cross, and doubtful how much I had heard. My father opened the door suddenly, which he had just closed, and looking in, said, in a calmer tone Perhaps, Monica, you would come for a moment to the study; Im sure you have none but kindly feelings towards me and little Maud, there; and I thank you for your goodwill; but you must see other things more reasonably, and I think you will. Cousin Monica got up silently and followed him, only throwing up her eyes and hands as she did so, and I was left alone, wondering and curious more than ever. XV A Warning I sat still, listening and wondering, and wondering and listening; but I ought to have known that no sound could reach me where I was from my fathers study. Five minutes passed and they did not return. Ten, fifteen. I drew near the fire and made myself comfortable in a great armchair, looking on the embers, but not seeing all the scenery and dramatis personae of my past life or future fortunes, in their shifting glow, as people in romances usually do; but fanciful castles and caverns in bloodred and golden glare, suggestive of dreamy fairyland, salamanders, sunsets, and palaces of firekings, and all this partly shaping and partly shaped by my fancy, and leading my closing eyes and drowsy senses off into dreamland. So I nodded and dozed, and sank into a deep slumber, from which I was roused by the voice of my cousin Monica. On opening my eyes, I saw nothing but Lady Knollys face looking steadily into mine, and expanding into a goodnatured laugh as she watched the vacant and lacklustre stare with which I returned her gaze. Come, dear Maud, it is late; you ought to have been in your bed an hour ago. Up I stood, and so soon as I had begun to hear and see aright, it struck me that Cousin Monica was more grave and subdued than I had seen her. Come, let us light our candles and go together. Holding hands, we ascended, I sleepy, she silent; and not a word was spoken until we reached my room. Mary Quince was in waiting, and tea made. Tell her to come back in a few minutes; I wish to say a word to you, said Lady Knollys. The maid accordingly withdrew. Lady Knollys eyes followed her till she closed the door behind her. Im going in the morning. So soon! Yes, dear; I could not stay; in fact, I should have gone tonight, but it was too late, and I leave instead in the morning. I am so sorryso very sorry, I exclaimed, in honest disappointment, and the walls seemed to darken round me, and the monotony of the old routine loomed more terrible in prospect. So am I, dear Maud. But cant you stay a little longer; wont you? No, Maud; Im vexed with Austinvery much vexed with your father; in short, I cant conceive anything so entirely preposterous, and dangerous, and insane as his conduct, now that his eyes are quite opened, and I must say a word to you before I go, and it is just thisyou must cease to be a mere child, you must try and be a woman, Maud now dont be frightened or foolish, but hear me out. That womanwhat does she call herselfRougierre? I have reason to believe isin fact, from circumstances, must be your enemy; you will find her very deep, daring, and unscrupulous, I venture to say, and you cant be too much on your guard. Do you quite understand me, Maud? I do, said I, with a gasp, and my eyes fixed on her with a terrified interest, as if on a warning ghost. You must bridle your tongue, mind, and govern your conduct, and command even your features. It is hard to practise reserve; but you mustyou must be secret and vigilant. Try and be in appearance just as usual; dont quarrel; tell her nothing, if you do happen to know anything, of your fathers business; be always on your guard when with her, and keep your eye upon her everywhere. Observe everything, disclose nothingdo you see? Yes, again I whispered. You have good, honest servants about you, and, thank God, they dont like her. But you must not repeat to them one word I am now saying to you. Servants are fond of dropping hints, and letting things ooze out in that way, and in their quarrels with her would compromise youyou understand me? I do, I sighed, with a wild stare. Andand, Maud, dont let her meddle with your food. Cousin Monica gave me a pale little nod, and looked away. I could only stare at her; and under my breath I uttered an ejaculation of terror. Dont be so frightened; you must not be foolish; I only wish you to be upon your guard. I have my suspicions, but I may be quite wrong; your father thinks I am a fool; perhaps I amperhaps not; maybe he may come to think as I do. But you must not speak to him on the subject; hes an odd man, and never did and never will act wisely, when his passions and prejudices are engaged. Has she ever committed any great crime? I asked, feeling as if I were on the point of fainting. No, dear Maud, I never said anything of the kind; dont be so frightened I only said I have formed, from something I know, an ill opinion of her; and an unprincipled person, under temptation, is capable of a great deal. But no matter how wicked she may be, you may defy her, simply by assuming her to be so, and acting with caution; she is cunning and selfish, and shell do nothing desperate. But I would give her no opportunity. Oh, dear! Oh, Cousin Monica, dont leave me. My dear, I cant stay; your papa and Iweve had a quarrel. I know Im right, and hes wrong, and hell come to see it soon, if hes left to himself, and then all will be right. But just now he misunderstands me, and weve not been civil to one another. I could not think of staying, and he would not allow you to come away with me for a short visit, which I wished. It wont last, though; and I do assure you, my dear Maud, I am quite happy about you now that you are quite on your guard. Just act respecting that person as if she were capable of any treachery, without showing distrust or dislike in your manner, and nothing will remain in her power; and write to me whenever you wish to hear from me, and if I can be of any real use, I dont care, Ill come so theres a wise little woman; do as Ive said, and depend upon it everything will go well, and Ill contrive before long to get that nasty creature away. Except a kiss and a few hurried words in the morning when she was leaving, and a pencilled farewell for papa, there was nothing more from Cousin Monica for some time. Knowl was dark againdarker than ever. My father, gentle always to me, was nowperhaps it was contrast with his fitful return to something like the worlds ways, during Lady Knollys staymore silent, sad, and isolated than before. Of Madame de la Rougierre I had nothing at first particular to remark. Only, reader, if you happen to be a rather nervous and very young girl, I ask you to conceive my fears and imaginings, and the kind of misery which I was suffering. Its intensity I cannot now even myself recall. But it overshadowed me perpetuallya care, an alarm. It lay down with me at night and got up with me in the morning, tinting and disturbing my dreams, and making my daily life terrible. I wonder now that I lived through the ordeal. The torment was secret and incessant, and kept my mind in unintermitting activity. Externally things went on at Knowl for some weeks in the usual routine. Madame was, so far as her unpleasant ways were concerned, less tormenting than before, and constantly reminded me of our leetle vow of friendship, you remember, dearest Maud! and she would stand beside me, and looked from the window with her bony arm round my waist, and my reluctant hand drawn round in hers; and thus she would smile, and talk affectionately and even playfully; for at times she would grow quite girlish, and smile with her great carious teeth, and begin to quiz and babble about the young faylows, and tell bragging tales of her lovers, all of which were dreadful to me. She was perpetually recurring, too, to the charming walk we had had together to Church Scarsdale, and proposing a repetition of that delightful excursion, which, you may be sure, I evaded, having by no means so agreeable a recollection of our visit. One day, as I was dressing to go out for a walk, in came good Mrs. Rusk, the housekeeper, to my room. Miss Maud, dear, is not that too far for you? It is a long walk to Church Scarsdale, and you are not looking very well. To Church Scarsdale? I repeated; Im not going to Church Scarsdale; who said I was going to Church Scarsdale? There is nothing I should so much dislike. Well, I never! exclaimed she. Why, theres old Madames been downstairs with me for fruit and sandwiches, telling me you were longing to go to Church Scarsdale Its quite untrue, I interrupted. She knows I hate it. She does? said Mrs. Rusk, quietly; and you did not tell her nothing about the basket? Wellif there isnt a story! Now what may she be afterwhat is itwhat is she driving at? I cant tell, but I wont go. No, of course, dear, you wont go. But you may be sure theres some scheme in her old head. Tom Fowkes says shes bin two or three times to drink tea at Farmer Graysnow, could it be shes thinking to marry him? And Mrs. Rusk sat down and laughed heartily, ending with a crow of derision. To think of a young fellow like that, and his wife, poor thing, not dead a yearmaybe shes got money? I dont knowI dont careperhaps, Mrs. Rusk, you mistook Madame. I will go down; I am going out. Madame had a basket in her hand. She held it quietly by her capacious skirt, at the far side, and made no allusion to the preparation, neither to the direction in which she proposed walking, and prattling artlessly and affectionately she marched by my side. Thus we reached the stile at the sheepwalk, and then I paused. Now, Madame, have not we gone far enough in this direction?suppose we visit the pigeonhouse in the park? Wat folly! my dear a Maudyou cannot walk so far. Well, towards home, then. And wy not a this way? We ave not walk enough, and Mr. Ruthyn he will not be pleased if you do not take proper exercise. Let us walk on by the path, and stop when you like. Where do you wish to go, Madame? Nowhere particularcome along; dont be fool, Maud. This leads to Church Scarsdale. A yes indeed! wat sweet place! bote we need not a walk all the way to there. Id rather not walk outside the grounds today, Madame. Come, Maud, you shall not be foolwat you mean, Mademoiselle? said the stalworth lady, growing yellow and greenish with an angry mottling, and accosting me very gruffly. I dont care to cross the stile, thank you, Madame. I shall remain at this side. You shall do wat I tell you! exclaimed she. Let go my arm, Madame, you hurt me, I cried. She had gripped my arm very firmly in her great bony hand, and seemed preparing to drag me over by main force. Let me go, I repeated shrilly, for the pain increased. La! she cried with a smile of rage and a laugh, letting me go and shoving me backward at the same time, so that I had a rather dangerous tumble. I stood up, a good deal hurt, and very angry, notwithstanding my fear of her. Ill ask papa if I am to be so illused. Wat av I done? cried Madame, laughing grimly from her hollow jaws; I did all I could to help you overow could I prevent you to pull back and tumble if you would do so? That is the way wen you petites Mademoiselles are naughty and hurt yourself they always try to make blame other people. Tell a wat you likeyou think I care? Very well, Madame. Are a you coming? No. She looked steadily in my face and very wickedly. I gazed at her as with dazzled eyesI suppose as the feathered prey do at the owl that glares on them by night. I neither moved back nor forward, but stared at her quite helplessly. You are nice pupilcharming young person! So polite, so obedient, so amiable! I will walk towards Church Scarsdale, she continued, suddenly breaking through the conventionalism of her irony, and accosting me in savage accents. You weel stay behind if you dare. I tell you to accompanydo you hear? More than ever resolved against following her, I remained where I was, watching her as she marched fiercely away, swinging her basket as though in imagination knocking my head off with it. She soon cooled, however, and looking over her shoulder, and seeing me still at the other side of the stile, she paused, and beckoned me grimly to follow her. Seeing me resolutely maintain my position, she faced about, tossed her head, like an angry beast, and seemed uncertain for a while what course to take with me. She stamped and beckoned furiously again. I stood firm. I was very much frightened, and could not tell to what violence she might resort in her exasperation. She walked towards me with an inflamed countenance, and a slight angry wagging of the head; my heart fluttered, and I awaited the crisis in extreme trepidation. She came close, the stile only separating us, and stopped short, glaring and grinning at me like a French grenadier who has crossed bayonets, but hesitates to close. XVI Doctor Bryerly Looks In What had I done to excite this ungovernable fury? We had often before had such small differences, and she had contented herself with being sarcastic, teasing, and impertinent. So, for future you are gouvernante and I the cheaile for you to commandis not so?and you must direct where we shall walk. Trsbien! we shall see; Monsieur Ruthyn he shall know everything. For me I do not carenot at allI shall be rather pleased, on the contrary. Let him decide. If I shall be responsible for the conduct and the health of Mademoiselle his daughter, it must be that I shall have authority to direct her wat she must doit must be that she or I shall obey. I ask only witch shall command for the futurevoil tout! I was frightened, but resoluteI dare say I looked sullen and uncomfortable. At all events, she seemed to think she might possibly succeed by wheedling; so she tried coaxing and cajoling, and patted my cheek, and predicted that I would be a good cheaile, and not vex poor Madame, but do for the future wat she tell a me. She smiled her wide wet grin, smoothed my hand, and patted my cheek, and would in the excess of her conciliatory paroxysm have kissed me; but I withdrew, and she commented only with a little laugh, and a Foolish little thing! but you will be quite amiable just now. Why, Madame, I asked, suddenly raising my head and looking her straight in the face, do you wish me to walk to Church Scarsdale so particularly today? She answered my steady look with a contracted gaze and an unpleasant frown. Wy do I?I do not understand a you; there is no particular daywat folly! Wy I like Church Scarsdale? Well, it is such pretty place. There is all! Wat leetle fool! I suppose you think I want to keel a you and bury you in the churchyard? And she laughed, and it would not have been a bad laugh for a ghoul. Come, my dearest Maud, you are not a such fool to say, if you tell me go thees a way, I weel go that; and if you say, go that a way, I weel go theesyou are rasonable leetle girlcome alongalons doncwe shall av soche agreeable walkweel a you? But I was immovable. It was neither obstinacy nor caprice, but a profound fear that governed me. I was then afraidyes, afraid. Afraid of what? Well, of going with Madame de la Rougierre to Church Scarsdale that day. That was all. And I believe that instinct was true. She turned a bitter glance toward Church Scarsdale, and bit her lip. She saw that she must give it up. A shadow hung upon her drab features. A little scowla little sneerwide lips compressed with a false smile, and a leaden shadow mottling all. Such was the countenance of the lady who only a minute or two before had been smiling and murmuring over the stile so amiably with her idiomatic blarney, as the Irish call that kind of blandishment. There was no mistaking the malignant disappointment that hooked and warped her featuresmy heart sanka tremendous fear overpowered me. Had she intended poisoning me? What was in that basket? I looked in her dreadful face. I felt for a minute quite frantic. A feeling of rage with my father, with my Cousin Monica, for abandoning me to this dreadful rogue, took possession of me, and I cried, helplessly wringing my hands Oh! it is a shameit is a shameit is a shame! The countenance of the gouvernante relaxed. I think she in turn was frightened at my extreme agitation. It might have worked unfavourably with my father. Come, Maud, it is time you should try to control your temper. You shall not walk to Church Scarsdale if you do not likeI only invite. There! It is quite as you please, where we shall walk then? Here to the peegeonhouse? I think you say. Tout bien! Remember I concede you everything. Let us go. We went, therefore, towards the pigeonhouse, through the forest trees; I not speaking as the children in the wood did with their sinister conductor, but utterly silent and scared; she silent also, meditating, and sometimes with a sharp sideglance gauging my progress towards equanimity. Her own was rapid; for Madame was a philosopher, and speedily accommodated herself to circumstances. We had not walked a quarter of an hour when every trace of gloom had left her face, which had assumed its customary brightness, and she began to sing with a spiteful hilarity as we walked forward, and indeed seemed to be approaching one of her waggish, frolicsome moods. But her fun in these moods was solitary. The joke, whatever it was, remained in her own keeping. When we approached the ruined brick towerin old times a pigeonhouseshe grew quite frisky, and twirled her basket in the air, and capered to her own singing. Under the shadow of the broken wall, and its ivy, she sat down with a frolicsome plump, and opened her basket, inviting me to partake, which I declined. I must do her justice, however, upon the suspicion of poison, which she quite disposed of by gobbling up, to her own share, everything which the basket contained. The reader is not to suppose that Madames cheerful demeanour indicated that I was forgiven. Nothing of the kind. One syllable more, on our walk home, she addressed not to me. And when we reached the terrace, she said You will please, Maud, remain for twothree minutes in the Dutch garden, while I speak with Mr. Ruthyn in the study. This was spoken with a high head and an insufferable smile; and I more haughtily, but quite gravely, turned without disputing, and descended the steps to the quaint little garden she had indicated. I was surprised and very glad to see my father there. I ran to him, and began, Oh! papa! and then stopped short, adding only, may I speak to you now? He smiled kindly and gravely on me. Well, Maud, say your say. Oh, sir, it is only this I entreat that our walks, mine and Madames may be confined to the grounds. And why? IIm afraid to go with her. Afraid! he repeated, looking hard at me. Have you lately had a letter from Lady Knollys? No, papa, not for two months or more. There was a pause. And why afraid, Maud? She brought me one day to Church Scarsdale; you know what a solitary place it is, sir; and she frightened me so that I was afraid to go with her into the churchyard. But she went and left me alone at the other side of the stream, and an impudent man passing by stopped and spoke to me, and seemed inclined to laugh at me, and altogether frightened me very much, and he did not go till Madame happened to return. What kind of manyoung or old? A young man; he looked like a farmers son, but very impudent, and stood there talking to me whether I would or not; and Madame did not care at all, and laughed at me for being frightened; and, indeed, I am very uncomfortable with her. He gave me another shrewd look, and then looked down cloudily and thought. You say you are uncomfortable and frightened.


How is thiswhat causes these feelings? I dont know, sir; she likes frightening me; I am afraid of herwe are all afraid of her, I think. The servants, I mean, as well as I. My father nodded his head contemptuously, twice or thrice, and muttered, A pack of fools! And she was so very angry today with me, because I would not walk again with her to Church Scarsdale. I am very much afraid of her. I and quite unpremeditatedly I burst into tears. There, there, little Maud, you must not cry. She is here only for your good. If you are afraideven foolishly afraidit is enough. Be it as you say; your walks are henceforward confined to the grounds; Ill tell her so. I thanked him through my tears very earnestly. But, Maud, beware of prejudice; women are unjust and violent in their judgments. Your family has suffered in some of its members by such injustice. It behoves us to be careful not to practise it. That evening in the drawingroom my father said, in his usual abrupt way About my departure, Maud Ive had a letter from London this morning, and I think I shall be called away sooner than I at first supposed, and for a little time we must manage apart from one another. Do not be alarmed. You shall not be in Madame de la Rougierres charge, but under the care of a relation; but even so, little Maud will miss her old father, I think. His tone was very tender, so were his looks; he was looking down on me with a smile, and tears were in his eyes. This softening was new to me. I felt a strange thrill of surprise, delight, and love, and springing up, I threw my arms about his neck and wept in silence. He, I think, shed tears also. You said a visitor was coming; someone, you mean, to go away with. Ah, yes, you love him better than me. No, dear, no; but I fear him; and I am sorry to leave you, little Maud. It wont be very long, I pleaded. No, dear, he answered with a sigh. I was tempted almost to question him more closely on the subject, but he seemed to divine what was in my mind, for he said Let us speak no more of it, but only bear in mind, Maud, what I told you about the oak cabinet, the key of which is here, and he held it up as formerly you remember what you are to do in case Doctor Bryerly should come while I am away? Yes, sir. His manner had changed, and I had returned to my accustomed formalities. It was only a few days later that Dr. Bryerly actually did arrive at Knowl, quite unexpectedly, except, I suppose, by my father. He was to stay only one night. He was twice closeted in the little study upstairs with my father, who seemed to me, even for him, unusually dejected, and Mrs. Rusk inveighing against them rubbitch, as she always termed the Swedenborgians, told me they were making him quite shakylike, and he would not last no time, if that lanky, lean ghost of a fellow in black was to keep prowling in and out of his room like a tame cat. I lay awake that night, wondering what the mystery might be that connected my father and Dr. Bryerly. There was something more than the convictions of their strange religion could account for. There was something that profoundly agitated my father. It may not be reasonable, but so it is. The person whose presence, though we know nothing of the cause of that effect, is palpably attended with pain to anyone who is dear to us, grows odious, and I began to detest Doctor Bryerly. It was a grey, dark morning, and in a dark pass in the gallery, near the staircase, I came full upon the ungainly Doctor, in his glossy black suit. I think, if my mind had been less anxiously excited on the subject of his visit, or if I had not disliked him so much, I should not have found courage to accost him as I did. There was something sly, I thought, in his dark, lean face; and he looked so low, so like a Scotch artisan in his Sunday clothes, that I felt a sudden pang of indignation, at the thought that a great gentleman, like my father, should have suffered under his influence, and I stopped suddenly, instead of passing him by with a mere salutation, as he expected, May I ask a question, Doctor Bryerly? Certainly. Are you the friend whom my father expects? I dont quite see. The friend, I mean, with whom he is to make an expedition to some distance, I think, and for some little time? No, said the Doctor, with a shake of his head. And who is he? I really have not a notion, Miss. Why, he said that you knew, I replied. The Doctor looked honestly puzzled. Will he stay long away? pray tell me. The Doctor looked into my troubled face with inquiring and darkened eyes, like one who half reads anothers meaning; and then he said a little briskly, but not sharply Well, I dont know, Im sure, Miss; no, indeed, you must have mistaken; theres nothing that I know. There was a little pause, and he added No. He never mentioned any friend to me. I fancied that he was made uncomfortable by my question, and wanted to hide the truth. Perhaps I was partly right. Oh! Doctor Bryerly, pray, pray who is the friend, and where is he going? I do assure you, he said, with a strange sort of impatience, I dont know; it is all nonsense. And he turned to go, looking, I think, annoyed and disconcerted. A terrific suspicion crossed my brain like lightning. Doctor, one word, I said, I believe, quite wildly. Do youdo you think his mind is at all affected? Insane? he said, looking at me with a sudden, sharp inquisitiveness, that brightened into a smile. Pooh, pooh! Heaven forbid! not a saner man in England. Then with a little nod he walked on, carrying, as I believed, notwithstanding his disclaimer, the secret with him. In the afternoon Doctor Bryerly went away. XVII An Adventure For many days after our quarrel, Madame hardly spoke to me. As for lessons, I was not much troubled with them. It was plain, too, that my father had spoken to her, for she never after that day proposed our extending our walks beyond the precincts of Knowl. Knowl, however, was a very considerable territory, and it was possible for a much better pedestrian than I to tire herself effectually, without passing its limits. So we took occasionally long walks. After some weeks of sullenness, during which for days at a time she hardly spoke to me, and seemed lost in dark and evil abstraction, she once more, and somewhat suddenly, recovered her spirits, and grew quite friendly. Her gaieties and friendliness were not reassuring, and in my mind presaged approaching mischief and treachery. The days were shortening to the wintry span. The edge of the red sun had already touched the horizon as Madame and I, overtaken at the warren by his last beams, were hastening homeward. A narrow carriageroad traverses this wild region of the park, to which a distant gate gives entrance. On descending into this unfrequented road, I was surprised to see a carriage standing there. A thin, sly postilion, with that pert, turnedup nose which the old caricaturist Woodward used to attribute to the gentlemen of Tewkesbury, was leaning on his horses, and looked hard at me as I passed. A lady who sat within looked out, with an extrafashionable bonnet on, and also treated us to a stare. Very pink and white cheeks she had, very black glossy hair and bright eyesfat, bold, and rather cross, she lookedand in her bold way she examined us curiously as we passed. I mistook the situation. It had once happened before that an intending visitor at Knowl had entered the place by that parkroad, and lost several hours in a vain search for the house. Ask him, Madame, whether they want to go to the house; I dare say they have missed their way, whispered I. Eh bien, they will find again. I do not choose to talk to postboys; allons! But I asked the man as we passed, Do you want to reach the house? By this time he was at the horses heads, buckling the harness. Noa, he said in a surly tone, smiling oddly on the winkers, but, recollecting his politeness, he added, Noa, thankee, misses, its what they calls a picnic; well be takin the road now. He was smiling now on a little buckle with which he was engaged. Comenonsense! whispered Madame sharply in my ear, and she whisked me by the arm, so we crossed the little stile at the other side. Our path lay across the warren, which undulates in little hillocks. The sun was down by this time, blue shadows were stretching round us, colder in the splendid contrast of the burnished sunset sky. Descending over these hillocks we saw three figures a little in advance of us, not far from the path we were tracing. Two were standing smoking and chatting at intervals one tall and slim, with a high chimneypot, worn a little on one side, and a white greatcoat buttoned up to the chin; the other shorter and stouter, with a darkcoloured wrapper. These gentlemen were facing rather our way as we came over the edge of the eminence, but turned their backs on perceiving our approach. As they did so, I remember so well each lowered his cigar suddenly with the simultaneousness of a drill. The third figure sustained the picnic character of the group, for he was repacking a hamper. He stood suddenly erect as we drew near, and a very illlooking person he was, lowbrowed, squarechinned, and with a broad, broken nose. He wore gaiters, and was a little bandy, very broad, and had a closelycropped bullet head, and deepset little eyes. The moment I saw him, I beheld the living type of the burglars and bruisers whom I had so often beheld with a kind of scepticism in Punch. He stood over his hamper and scowled sharply at us for a moment; then with the point of his foot he jerked a little fur cap that lay on the ground into his hand, drew it tight over his lowering brows, and called to his companions, just as we passed himHallo! mister. Hows this? All right, said the tall person in the white greatcoat, who, as he answered, shook his shorter companion by the arm, I thought angrily. This shorter companion turned about. He had a muffler loose about his neck and chin. I thought he seemed shy and irresolute, and the tall man gave him a great jolt with his elbow, which made him stagger, and I fancied a little angry, for he said, as it seemed, a sulky word or two. The gentleman in the white surtout, however, standing direct in our way, raised his hat with a mock salutation, placing his hand on his breast, and forthwith began to advance with an insolent grin and an air of tipsy frolic. Jist in time, ladies; five minutes more and wed a bin off. Thankee, Mrs. Mouser, maam, for the honour of the meetin, and more particular for the pleasure of making your young ladys acquaintanceniece, maam? daughter, maam? granddaughter, by Jove, is it? Hallo! there, mild n, I say, stop packin. This was to the illfavoured person with the broken nose. Bring us a couple o glasses and a bottle o curaoa; what are you feard on, my dear? this is Lord Lollipop, here, a reglar charmer, wouldnt hurt a fly, hey Lolly? Isnt he pretty, Miss? and Im Sir Simon Sugarstickso called after old Sir Simon, maam; and Im so tall and straight, Miss, and slimaint I? and ever so sweet, my honey, when you come to know me, just like a sugarstick; aint I, Lolly, boy? Im Miss Ruthyn, tell them, Madame, I said, stamping on the ground, and very much frightened. Be quaite, Maud. If you are angry, they will hurt us; leave me to speak, whispered the gouvernante. All this time they were approaching from separate points. I glanced back, and saw the ruffianlylooking man within a yard or two, with his arm raised and one finger up, telegraphing, as it seemed, to the gentlemen in front. Be quaite, Maud, whispered Madame, with an awful adjuration, which I do not care to set down. They are teepsy; dont seem fraid. I was afraidterrified. The circle had now so narrowed that they might have placed their hands on my shoulders. Pray, gentlemen, wat you want? weel a you av the goodness to permit us to go on? I now observed for the first time, with a kind of shock, that the shorter of the two men, who prevented our advance, was the person who had accosted me so offensively at Church Scarsdale. I pulled Madame by the arm, whispering, Let us run. Be quaite, my dear Maud, was her only reply. I tell you what, said the tall man, who had replaced his high hat more jauntily than before on the side of his head, Weve caught you now, fair game, and well let you off on conditions. You must not be frightened, Miss. Upon my honour and soul, I mean no mischief; do I, Lollipop? I call him Lord Lollipop; its only chaff, though; his names Smith. Now, Lolly, I vote we let the prisoners go, when we just introduce them to Mrs. Smith; shes sitting in the carriage, and keeps Mr. S. here in precious good order, I promise you. Theres easy terms for you, eh, and well have a glass o curaoa round, and so part friends. Is it a bargain? Come! Yes, Maud, we must gowat matter? whispered Madame vehemently. You shant, I said, instinctively terrified. Youll go with Maam, young un, wont you? said Mr. Smith, as his companion called him. Madame was holding my arm, but I snatched it from her, and would have run; the tall man, however, placed his arms round me and held me fast with an affectation of playfulness, but his grip was hard enough to hurt me a good deal. Being now thoroughly frightened, after an ineffectual struggle, during which I heard Madame say, You fool, Maud, weel you come with me? see wat you are doing, I began to scream, shriek after shriek, which the man attempted to drown with loud hooting, peals of laughter, forcing his handkerchief against my mouth, while Madame continued to bawl her exhortations to be quaite in my ear. Ill lift her, I say! said a gruff voice behind me. But at this instant, wild with terror, I distinctly heard other voices shouting. The men who surrounded me were instantly silent, and all looked in the direction of the sound, now very near, and I screamed with redoubled energy. The ruffian behind me thrust his great hand over my mouth. It is the gamekeeper, cried Madame. Two gamekeeperswe are safethank Heaven! and she began to call on Dykes by name. I only remember, feeling myself at libertyrunning a few stepsseeing Dykes white furious faceclinging to his arm, with which he was bringing his gun to a level, and saying, Dont firetheyll murder us if you do. Madame, screaming lustily, ran up at the same moment. Run on to the gate and lock itIll be wi ye in a minute, cried he to the other gamekeeper; who started instantly on this mission, for the three ruffians were already in full retreat for the carriage. Giddywildfaintingstill terror carried me on. Now, Madame Rogersspose you take young Misses onI must run and len Bill a hand. No, no; you moste not, cried Madame. I am fainting myself, and more villains they may be near to us. But at this moment we heard a shot, and, muttering to himself and grasping his gun, Dykes ran at his utmost speed in the direction of the sound. With many exhortations to speed, and ejaculations of alarm, Madame hurried me on toward the house, which at length we reached without further adventure. As it happened, my father met us in the hall. He was perfectly transported with fury on hearing from Madame what had happened, and set out at once, with some of the servants, in the hope of intercepting the party at the parkgate. Here was a new agitation; for my father did not return for nearly three hours, and I could not conjecture what might be occurring during the period of his absence. My alarm was greatly increased by the arrival in the interval of poor Bill, the undergamekeeper, very much injured. Seeing that he was determined to intercept their retreat, the three men had set upon him, wrested his gun, which exploded in the struggle, from him, and beat him savagely. I mention these particulars, because they convinced everybody that there was something specially determined and ferocious in the spirit of the party, and that the fracas was no mere frolic, but the result of a predetermined plan. My father had not succeeded in overtaking them. He traced them to the Lugton Station, where they had taken the railway, and no one could tell him in what direction the carriage and posthorses had driven. Madame was, or affected to be, very much shattered by what had occurred. Her recollection and mine, when my father questioned us closely, differed very materially respecting many details of the personnel of the villainous party. She was obstinate and clear; and although the gamekeeper corroborated my description of them, still my father was puzzled. Perhaps he was not sorry that some hesitation was forced upon him, because although at first he would have gone almost any length to detect the persons, on reflection he was pleased that there was not evidence to bring them into a court of justice, the publicity and annoyance of which would have been inconceivably distressing to me. Madame was in a strange statetempestuous in temper, talking incessantlyevery now and then in floods of tears, and perpetually on her knees pouring forth torrents of thanksgiving to Heaven for our joint deliverance from the hands of those villains. Notwithstanding our community of danger and her thankfulness on my behalf, however, she broke forth into wrath and railing whenever we were alone together. Wat fool you were! so disobedient and obstinate; if you ad done wat I say, then we should av been quaite safe; those persons they were tipsy, and there is nothing so dangerous as to quarrel with tipsy persons; I would av brought you quaite safethe lady she seem so nice and quaite, and we should av been safe with herthere would av been nothing absolutely; but instead you would scream and pooshe, and so they grow quite wild, and all the impertinence and violence follow of course; and that a poor Billall his beating and danger to his life it is cause entairely by you. And she spoke with more real virulence than that kind of upbraiding generally exhibits. The beast! exclaimed Mrs. Rusk, when she, I, and Mary Quince were in my room together, with all her crying and praying, Id like to know as much as she does, maybe, about them rascals. There never was sich like about the place, long as I remember it, till she came to Knowl, old witch! with them unmerciful big bones of hers, and her great bald head, grinning here, and crying there, and her nose everywhere. The old French hypocrite! Mary Quince threw in an observation, and I believe Mrs. Rusk rejoined, but I heard neither. For whether the housekeeper spoke with reflection or not, what she said affected me strangely. Through the smallest aperture, for a moment, I had had a peep into Pandemonium. Were not peculiarities of Madames demeanour and advice during the adventure partly accounted for by the suggestion? Could the proposed excursion to Church Scarsdale have had any purpose of the same sort? What was proposed? How was Madame interested in it? Were such immeasurable treason and hypocrisy possible? I could not explain nor quite believe in the shapeless suspicion that with these light and bitter words of the old housekeeper had stolen so horribly into my mind. After Mrs. Rusk was gone I awoke from my dismal abstraction with something like a moan and a shudder, with a dreadful sense of danger. Oh! Mary Quince, I cried, do you think she really knew? Who, Miss Maud? Do you think Madame knew of those dreadful people? Oh, nosay you dontyou dont believe ittell me she did not. Im distracted, Mary Quince, Im frightened out of my life. There now, Miss Maud, dearthere now, dont take on sowhy should she?no sich a thing. Mrs. Rusk, law bless you, shes no more meaning in what she says than the child unborn. But I was really frightened. I was in a horrible state of uncertainty as to Madame de la Rougierres complicity with the party who had beset us at the warren, and afterwards so murderously beat our poor gamekeeper. How was I ever to get rid of that horrible woman? How long was she to enjoy her continual opportunities of affrighting and injuring me? She hates meshe hates me, Mary Quince; and she will never stop until she has done me some dreadful injury. Oh! will no one relieve mewill no one take her away? Oh, papa, papa, papa! you will be sorry when it is too late. I was crying and wringing my hands, and turning from side to side, at my wits ends, and honest Mary Quince in vain endevoured to quiet and comfort me. XVIII A Midnight Visitor The frightful warnings of Lady Knollys haunted me too. Was there no escape from the dreadful companion whom fate had assigned me? I made up my mind again and again to speak to my father and urge her removal. In other things he indulged me; here, however, he met me drily and sternly, and it was plain that he fancied I was under my cousin Monicas influence, and also that he had secret reasons for persisting in an opposite course. Just then I had a gay, odd letter from Lady Knollys, from some country house in Shropshire. Not a word about Captain Oakley. My eye skimmed its pages in search of that charmed name. With a peevish feeling I tossed the sheet upon the table. Inwardly I thought how illnatured and unwomanly it was. After a time, however, I read it, and found the letter very goodnatured. She had received a note from papa. He had had the impudence to forgive her for his impertinence. But for my sake she meant, notwithstanding this aggravation, really to pardon him; and whenever she had a disengaged week, to accept his invitation to Knowl, from whence she was resolved to whisk me off to London, where, though I was too young to be presented at Court and come out, I might yetbesides having the best masters and a good excuse for getting rid of Medusasee a great deal that would amuse and surprise me. Great news, I suppose, from Lady Knollys? said Madame, who always knew who in the house received letters by the post, and by an intuition from whom they came. Two lettersyou and your papa. She is quite well, I hope? Quite well, thank you, Madame. Some fishing questions, dropped from time to time, fared no better. And as usual, when she was foiled even in a trifle, she became sullen and malignant. That night, when my father and I were alone, he suddenly closed the book he had been reading, and said I heard from Monica Knollys today. I always liked poor Monnie; and though shes no witch, and very wrongheaded at times, yet now and then she does say a thing thats worth weighing. Did she ever talk to you of a time, Maud, when you are to be your own mistress? No, I answered, a little puzzled, and looking straight in his rugged, kindly face. Well, I thought she mightshes a rattle, you knowalways was a rattle, and that sort of people say whatever comes uppermost. But thats a subject for me, and more than once, Maud, it has puzzled me. He sighed. Come with me to the study, little Maud. So, he carrying a candle, we crossed the lobby, and marched together through the passage, which at night always seemed a little awesome, darkly wainscoted, uncheered by the crosslight from the hall, which was lost at the turn, leading us away from the frequented parts of the house to that misshapen and lonely room about which the traditions of the nursery and the servants hall had had so many fearful stories to recount. I think my father had intended making some disclosure to me on reaching this room. If so, he changed his mind, or at least postponed his intention. He had paused before the cabinet, respecting the key of which he had given me so strict a charge, and I think he was going to explain himself more fully than he had done. But he went on, instead, to the table where his desk, always jealously locked, was placed, and having lighted the candles which stood by it, he glanced at me, and said You must wait a little, Maud; I shall have something to say to you. Take this candle and amuse yourself with a book meanwhile. I was accustomed to obey in silence. I chose a volume of engravings, and ensconced myself in a favourite nook in which I had often passed a halfhour similarly. This was a deep recess by the fireplace, fenced on the other side by a great old escritoir. Into this I drew a stool, and, with candle and book, I placed myself snugly in the narrow chamber. Every now and then I raised my eyes and saw my father either writing or ruminating, as it seemed to me, very anxiously at his desk. Time wore ona longer time than he had intended, and still he continued absorbed at his desk. Gradually I grew sleepy, and as I nodded, the book and room faded away, and pleasant little dreams began to gather round me, and so I went off into a deep slumber. It must have lasted long, for when I wakened my candle had burnt out; my father, having quite forgotten me, was gone, and the room was dark and deserted. I felt cold and a little stiff, and for some seconds did not know where I was. I had been wakened, I suppose, by a sound which I now distinctly heard, to my great terror, approaching. There was a rustling; there was a breathing. I heard a creaking upon the plank that always creaked when walked upon in the passage. I held my breath and listened, and coiled myself up in the innermost recess of my little chamber. Sudden and sharp, a light shone in from the nearlyclosed study door. It shone angularly on the ceiling like a letter L reversed. There was a pause. Then someone knocked softly at the door, which after another pause was slowly pushed open. I expected, I think, to see the dreaded figure of the linkman. I was scarcely less frightened to see that of Madame de la Rougierre. She was dressed in a sort of grey silk, which she called her Chinese silkprecisely as she had been in the daytime. In fact, I do not think she had undressed. She had no shoes on. Otherwise her toilet was deficient in nothing. Her wide mouth was grimly closed, and she stood scowling into the room with a searching and pallid scrutiny, the candle held high above her head at the full stretch of her arm. Placed as I was in a deep recess, and in a seat hardly raised above the level of the floor, I escaped her, although it seemed to me for some seconds, as I gazed on this spectre, that our eyes actually met. I sat without breathing or winking, staring upon the formidable image which with upstretched arm, and the sharp lights and hard shadows thrown upon her corrugated features, looked like a sorceress watching for the effect of a spell. She was plainly listening intensely. Unconsciously she had drawn her lower lip altogether between her teeth, and I well remember what a deathlike and idiotic look the contortion gave her. My terror lest she should discover me amounted to positive agony. She rolled her eyes stealthily from corner to corner of the room, and listened with her neck awry at the door. Then to my fathers desk she went. To my great relief, her back was towards me. She stooped over it, with the candle close by; I saw her try a keyit could be nothing elseand I heard her blow through the wards to clear them. Then, again, she listened at the door, candle in hand, and then with long tiptoe steps came back, and papas desk in another moment was open, and Madame cautiously turning over the papers it contained. Twice or thrice she paused, glided to the door, and listened again intently with her head near the ground, and then returned and continued her search, peeping into papers one after another, tolerably methodically, and reading some quite through. While this felonious business was going on, I was freezing with fear lest she should accidentally look round and her eyes light on me; for I could not say what she might not do rather than have her crime discovered. Sometimes she would read a paper twice over; sometimes a whisper no louder than the ticking of a watch, sometimes a brief chuckle under her breath, bespoke the interest with which here and there a letter or a memorandum was read. For about half an hour, I think, this went on; but at the time it seemed to me all but interminable. On a sudden she raised her head and listened for a moment, replaced the papers deftly, closed the desk without noise, except for the tiny click of the lock, extinguished the candle, and rustled stealthily out of the room, leaving in the darkness the malign and haglike face on which the candle had just shone still floating filmy in the dark. Why did I remain silent and motionless while such an outrage was being committed? If, instead of being a very nervous girl, preoccupied with an undefinable terror of that wicked woman, I had possessed courage and presence of mind, I dare say I might have given an alarm, and escaped from the room without the slightest risk. But so it was; I could no more stir than the bird who, cowering under its ivy, sees the white owl sailing back and forward under its predatory cruise. Not only during her presence, but for more than an hour after, I remained cowering in my hidingplace, and afraid to stir, lest she might either be lurking in the neighborhood, or return and surprise me. You will not be astonished, that after a night so passed I was ill and feverish in the morning. To my horror, Madame de la Rougierre came to visit me at my bedside. Not a trace of guilty consciousness of what had passed during the night was legible in her face. She had no sign of late watching, and her toilet was exemplary. As she sat smiling by me, full of anxious and affectionate enquiry, and smoothed the coverlet with her great felonious hand, I could quite comprehend the dreadful feeling with which the deceived husband in the Arabian Nights met his ghoul wife, after his nocturnal discovery. Ill as I was, I got up and found my father in that room which adjoined his bedchamber. He perceived, I am sure, by my looks, that something unusual had happened. I shut the door, and came close beside his chair. Oh, papa, I have such a thing to tell you! I forgot to call him Sir. A secret; and you wont say who told you? Will you come down to the study? He looked hard at me, got up, and kissing my forehead, saidDont be frightened, Maud; I venture to say it is a mares nest; at all events, my child, we will take care that no danger reaches you; come, child. And by the hand he led me to the study. When the door was shut, and we had reached the far end of the room next the window, I said, but in a low tone, and holding his arm fast Oh, sir, you dont know what a dreadful person we have living with usMadame de la Rougierre, I mean. Dont let her in if she comes; she would guess what I am telling you, and one way or another I am sure she would kill me. Tut, tut, child. You must know thats nonsense, he said, looking pale and stern. Oh no, papa. I am horribly frightened, and Lady Knollys thinks so too. Ha! I dare say; one fool makes many. We all know what Monica thinks. But I saw it, papa. She stole your key last night, and opened your desk, and read all your papers. Stole my key! said my father, staring at me perplexed, but at the same instant producing it. Stole it! Why here it is! She unlocked your desk; she read your papers for ever so long. Open it now, and see whether they have not been stirred. He looked at me this time in silence, with a puzzled air; but he did unlock the desk, and lifted the papers curiously and suspiciously. As he did so he uttered a few of those inarticulate interjections which are made with closed lips, and not always intelligible; but he made no remark. Then he placed me on a chair beside him, and sitting down himself, told me to recollect myself, and tell him distinctly all I had seen. This accordingly I did, he listening with deep attention. Did she remove any paper? asked my father, at the same time making a little search, I suppose, for that which he fancied might have been stolen. No; I did not see her take anything. Well, you are a good girl, Maud. Act discreetly. Say nothing to anyonenot even to your cousin Monica.