Part 113 (1/2)
”Does he?” replied Maria mechanically, her thoughts buried elsewhere.
”Buying or hiring one. _I_ should hire; and then there's no bother if you want to make a flitting. But Verrall is one who takes n.o.body's counsel but his own. What a worry it will be!” added Charlotte, after a pause.
Maria raised her eyes. She did not understand the remark.
”Packing up the things at the Folly,” exclaimed Charlotte. ”We begin to-morrow morning. I must be at the head of it, for it's of no use trusting that sort of work entirely to servants. Bon jour, pet.i.te coquette! Et les poupees?”
The diversion was caused by the flying entrance of Miss Meta. The young lady was not yet particularly well up in the Gallic language, and only half understood. She went straight up to Mrs. Pain, threw her soft sweet eyes right into that lady's flas.h.i.+ng black ones, rested her pretty arms upon the moire antique, and spoke out with her accustomed boldness.
”Where are the dogs now?”
”Chained down in the pit-hole,” responded Mrs. Pain.
”Margery says there is no pit-hole, and the dogs were not chained down,”
a.s.serted Meta.
”Margery's nothing but an old woman. Don't you believe her. If she tells stories again, we'll chain her down with the dogs.”
”Two of the dogs are outside,” said Meta.
”Not the same dogs, child,” returned Mrs. Pain with cool equanimity.
”They are street dogs, those are.”
”They are with the carriage,” persisted Meta. ”They are barking round it.”
”Are they barking? They can see Margery's face at the nursery window, and are frightened at it. Dogs always bark at ugly old women's faces.
You tell Margery so.”
”Margery's not ugly.”
”You innocent little simpleton! She's ugly enough to frighten the crows.”
How long the colloquy might have continued it is hard to say: certainly Meta would not be the one to give in: but it was interrupted by Margery herself. A note had just been delivered at the house for Mrs. George G.o.dolphin, and Margery, who probably was glad of an excuse for entering, brought it in. She never looked at all towards Mrs. Pain; she came straight up to her mistress, apparently ignoring Charlotte's presence, but you should have seen the expression of her face. The coronet on the seal imparted a suspicion to Maria that it came from Lord Averil, and her heart sank within her. Could he be withdrawing his promise of clemency?
”Who brought this?” she asked in a subdued tone.
”A servant on horseback, ma'am.”
Charlotte had started up, catching at her feathers, for Pierce was at the dining-room door now, saying that the horses were alarmingly restive. ”Good afternoon, Mrs. George G.o.dolphin,” she called out unceremoniously, as she hastened away. ”I'll come and spend a quiet hour with you before I leave for town. Adieu, pet.i.te diablesse! I'd have you up to-morrow for a farewell visit, but that I'm afraid you might get nailed down with the furniture in some of the packing-cases.”
Away she went. Meta was hastening after her, but was caught up by Margery with an angry sob--as if she had been saving her from some imminent danger. Maria opened the letter with trembling fingers.
”MY DEAR MRS. G.o.dOLPHIN,
”It has occurred to me since I parted from you, that you may wish to have the subject of our conversation confirmed in writing. I hereby a.s.sure you that I shall take no legal proceedings whatever against your husband on account of my lost bonds, and you may tell him from me that he need not, on that score, remain away from Prior's Ash.
”I hope you have reached home without too much fatigue.
”Believe me, ever sincerely yours, ”AVERIL.”
”How kind he is!” came involuntarily from Maria's lips.