Part 17 (1/2)

And now a strange time followed. I saw no more of that visitor that had come to the house lately, nor knew at what time he went away, or if he had attained the end he sought. My mistress busied me mostly in the lower part of the house, and went out very little herself, keeping on me all the while a strict guard and surveillance beyond her wont.

But at last a charitable call came to her, which she never refused; and so she left me alone, with instructions to remain between the kitchen and the street-door, and by no means to leave the house or to hold discourse with any that came, more than need be.

I sat alone in the kitchen, fretting a little against her injunctions, and calling to mind the merry evenings in the parlour at home, where I had sported and gossiped with my comrades. I loved not solitude, and sighed to think that I had now nothing to listen to but the great clock against the wall, nothing to speak to but the cat that purred at my feet.

I was, however, presently to have company that I little expected. For, as I sat with my seam in my hand, I heard a step upon the stairs; and yet I had let none into the house, but esteemed myself alone there.

It came from above, where was an upper chamber, and a loft little used.

My heart beat quickly, so that I was afraid to go out into the pa.s.sage, for there I must meet that which descended, man or spirit as it might be. I heard the foot on the lowest stair, and then it turned towards the little closet where my mistress often sat alone at her devotions.

While it lingered there I wondered whether I should rush out into the street, and seek the help and company of some neighbour. But I remembered Mrs. Gaunt's injunction; and, moreover, another thought restrained me. It was that of the man that I had let into the house and never seen again. It might well be that he had never left the place, and that I should be betraying a secret by calling in a stranger to look at him.

So I stood trembling by the deal table until the step sounded again and came on to the kitchen.

[Sidenote: The Man Again]

The door opened, and a man stood there. It was the same whom I had seen before.

He looked round quickly, and gave me a courteous greeting; his manner was, indeed, pleasant enough, and there was nothing in his look to set a maid trembling at the sight of him.

”I am in luck,” he said, ”for I heard Mrs. Gaunt go out some time since, and I am sick of that upper chamber where she keeps me shut up.”

”If she keeps you shut up, sir,” I said, his manner giving me back all my self-possession, ”sure she has some very good reason.”

”Do you know her reason?” he asked with abruptness.

”No, nor seek to know it, unless she chooses to tell me. I did not even guess that she had you in hiding.”

”Mrs. Gaunt is careful, but I can trust the lips that now reprove me.

They were made for better things than betraying a friend. I would willingly have some good advice from them, seeing that they speak wise words so readily.” And so saying he sat down on the settle, and looked at me smiling.

I was offended, and with reason, at the freedom of his speech; yet, his manner, was so much beyond anything I had been accustomed to for ease and pleasantness, that I soon forgave him, and when he encouraged me, began to prattle about my affairs, being only, with all my conceit, the silly la.s.sie my mistress had called me.

I talked of my home and my own kindred, and the friends I had had--which things had now all the charm of remoteness for me--and he listened with interest, catching up the names of places, and even of persons, as if they were not altogether strange to him, and asking me further of them.

”What could make you leave so happy a home for such a dungeon as this?”

he asked, looking round.

Then I hung my head, and reddened foolishly, but he gave a loud laugh and said, ”I can well understand. There was some country lout that your father would have wedded you to. That is the way with the prettiest maidens.”

”Tom Windham was no country lout,” I answered proudly; upon which he leaned forward and asked, ”What name was that you said? Windham? and from Westover? Is he a tall fellow with straw-coloured hair and a cut over his left eye?”

”He got it in a good cause,” I answered swiftly; ”have you seen him?”

”Yes, lately. It is the same. Lucky fellow! I would I were in his place now.” And he fell straightway into a moody taking, looking down as if he had forgotten me.

”Sir, do you say so?” I stammered foolishly, ”when--when----”