Part 59 (1/2)
He was pa.s.sing through Prior's Ash, and is forced to halt and lie up: he's very ill. I'll soon be back again.”
Away he went. Thomas felt unusually well that evening, and exerted himself for his brother. Once out of the house, George hesitated. Should he dash up to Lady G.o.dolphin's Folly first, and ease his mind, or should he go first to the Bell? The Bell was very near, but in the opposite direction to Ashlydyat. He turned first to the Bell, and was soon in the presence of Captain St. Aubyn, an old friend, now bound for Malta.
”I am sorry to have sent for you,” exclaimed Captain St. Aubyn, holding out his hand to George. ”I hear you have friends this evening.”
”It is just the kindest thing you could have done,” impulsively answered George. ”I would have given a five-pound note out of my pocket for a plea to absent myself; and your letter came and afforded it.”
What more he chose to explain was between themselves: it was not much: and in five minutes George was on his way to Lady G.o.dolphin's Folly. On he strode, his eager feet scarcely touching the ground. He lifted his hat and bared his brow, hot with anxiety, to the night air. It was a very light night, the moon high: and, as George pushed on through the dark grove of the Folly, he saw Charlotte Pain emerging from the same at a little distance, a dark shawl, or mantle, thrown completely over her head and figure, apparently for the purpose of disguise or concealment.
Her face was turned for a moment towards the moonlight, and there was no mistaking the features of Charlotte Pain. Then she crouched down, and sped along under the friendly cover of the trees. George hastened to overtake her.
But when he got up with her, as he thought, there was no Charlotte there. There was no any one. Where had she crept to? How had she disappeared? She must have plunged into the trees again. But George was in too much haste then to see Mr. Verrall, to puzzle himself about Charlotte. He crossed to the terrace, and rang the bell.
Were the servants making merry? He had to ring again. A tolerable peal this time. Its echoes might have been heard at Ashlydyat.
”Is Mr. Verrall at home?”
”No, sir. Mrs. Pain is.”
”Mrs. Pain is not,” thought George to himself. But he followed the man to the drawing-room.
To his indescribable astonishment, there sat Charlotte, at work. She was in evening dress, her gown and hair interlaced with jewels. Calmly and quietly sat she, very quietly for her, her King Charley reposing upon a chair at her side, fast asleep. It was next to impossible to fancy, or believe, that she could have been outside a minute or two ago, racing in and out of the trees, as if dodging some one, perhaps himself. And yet, had it been necessary, George thought he could have sworn that the face he saw was the face of Charlotte. So bewildered did he feel, as to be diverted for a moment from the business which had brought him there.
”You may well be surprised!” cried Charlotte, looking at him; and George noticed as she spoke that there was some peculiar expression in her face not usual to it. ”To see me at work is one of the world's wonders. A crochet mat took my fancy to-day in a shop, and I bought it, thinking I would make one like it. Instead of making one, I have managed to unravel the other.”
She pointed to the ground as she spoke. There, half covered by her dress, lay a heap of crinkled cotton; no doubt the unravelled mat.
Charlotte was plying her needle again with a.s.siduity, her eyes studying the instructions at her elbow.
”How very quickly you must have come in!” exclaimed George.
”Come in from where?” asked Charlotte.
”As I went up to the door, I saw you stooping near the grove on the left, something dark over your head.”
”You dreamt it,” said Charlotte. ”I have not been out.”
”But I certainly did see you,” repeated George. ”I could not be mistaken. You--were I fanciful, Charlotte, I should say you were in mischief, and wanted to escape observation. You were stooping under the shade of the trees and running along quickly.”
Charlotte lifted her face and looked at him with wondering eyes. ”Are you joking, or are you in earnest?” asked she.
”I never was more in earnest in my life. I could have staked my existence upon its being you.”
”Then I a.s.sure you I have not stirred out of this room since I came into it from dinner. What possessed me to try this senseless work, I cannot tell,” she added, flinging it across the floor in a momentary accession of temper. ”It has given me a headache, and they brought me some tea.”
”You are looking very poorly,” remarked George.
”Am I? I don't often have such a headache as this. The pain is here, over my left temple. Bathe it for me, will you, George?”
A handkerchief and some eau-de-Cologne were lying on the table beside her. George gallantly undertook the office: but he could not get over his wonder. ”I'll tell you what, Charlotte. If it was not yourself, it must have been your----”
”It must have been my old blind black dog,” interrupted Charlotte. ”He has a habit of creeping about the trees at night. There! I am sure that's near enough. I don't believe it was anything or any one.”