Part 96 (2/2)

”I am sure the woman is robbing me,” said poor Mrs. Wilkinson.

”No, she beant,” said the post-boy. They are good hearty people in that part of the world; but they do not brook suspicion, and the courtesies of life are somewhat neglected. And then she arrived at Lord Stapledean's gate.

”Be you she what sent the letter?” said the woman at the lodge, holding it only half open.

”Yes, my good woman; yes,” said Mrs. Wilkinson, thinking that her troubles were now nearly over. ”I am the lady; I am Mrs. Wilkinson.”

”Then my lord says as how you're to send up word what you've got to say.” And the woman still stood in the gateway.

”Send up word!” said Mrs. Wilkinson.

”Yees. Just send up word. Here's Jock can rin up.”

”But Jock can't tell his lords.h.i.+p what I have to say to him. I have to see his lords.h.i.+p on most important business,” said she, in her dismay.

”I'm telling you no more that what my lord said his ain sell. He just crawled down here his ain sell. 'If a woman comes,' said he, 'don't let her through the gate till she sends up word what she's got to say to me.'” And the portress looked as though she were resolved to obey her master's orders.

”Good heavens! There must be some mistake in this, I'm sure. I am the clergyman of Staplehurst--I mean his widow. Staplehurst, you know; his lords.h.i.+p's property.”

”I didna know nothing aboot it.”

”Oh, drive on, post-boy. There must be some mistake. The woman must be making some dreadful mistake.”

At last the courage of the lodge-keeper gave way before the importance of the post-chaise, and she did permit Mrs. Wilkinson to proceed.

”Mither,” said the woman's eldest hope, ”you'll cotch it noo.”

”Eh, lad; weel. He'll no hang me.” And so the woman consoled herself.

The house called Bowes Lodge looked damper and greener, more dull, silent, and melancholy, even than it had done when Arthur made his visit. The gravel sweep before the door was covered by weeds, and the shrubs looked as though they had known no gardener's care for years.

The door itself did not even appear to be for purposes of ingress and egress, and the post-boy had to search among the boughs and foliage with which the place was overgrown before he could find the bell.

When found, it sounded with a hoa.r.s.e, rusty, jangling noise, as though angry at being disturbed in so unusual a manner.

But, rusty and angry as it was, it did evoke a servant--though not without considerable delay. A cross old man did come at last, and the door was slowly opened. ”Yes,” said the man. ”The marquis was at home, no doubt. He was in the study. But that was no rule why he should see folk.” And then he looked very suspiciously at the big trunk, and muttered something to the post-boy, which Mrs. Wilkinson could not hear.

”Will you oblige me by giving my card to his lords.h.i.+p--Mrs.

Wilkinson? I want to see him on very particular business. I wrote to his lords.h.i.+p to say that I should be here.”

”Wrote to his lords.h.i.+p, did you? Then it's my opinion he won't see you at all.”

”Yes, he will. If you'll take him my card, I know he'll see me. Will you oblige me, sir, by taking it into his lords.h.i.+p?” And she put on her most imperious look.

The man went, and Mrs. Wilkinson sat silent in the post-chaise for a quarter of an hour. Then the servant returned, informing her that she was to send in her message. His lords.h.i.+p had given directions at the lodge that she was not to come up, and could not understand how it had come to pa.s.s that the lady had forced her way to the hall-door.

At any rate, he would not see her till he knew what it was about.

Now it was impossible for Mrs. Wilkinson to explain the exact nature of her very intricate case to Lord Stapledean's butler, and yet she could not bring herself to give up the battle without making some further effort. ”It is about the vicarage at Hurst Staple,” said she; ”the vicarage at Hurst Staple,” she repeated, impressing the words on the man's memory. ”Don't forget, now.” The man gave a look of ineffable scorn, and then walked away, leaving Mrs. Wilkinson still in the post-chaise.

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