Anne Hereford. Mrs. Henry Wood

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СКАЧАТЬ What ill-blood could have been between them?"

      "Heneage had better explain that when he makes his defence," said Mr. Edwin Barley, grimly.

      "It is but a night or two ago that we were speculating on his health, upon his taking a profession; we might have spared ourselves the pains, poor lad. I asked you, who was his heir-at-law, little thinking another would so soon inherit."

      Mr. Edwin Barley made no reply.

      "Why--good heavens!--is that Mrs. Barley sitting there?" he inquired, in a low tone, as his eyes fell on the distant stairs.

      "She won't move away. These things do terrify women. Don't notice her, Martin: she will be better left to herself."

      "Upon my word, this is a startling and sudden blow," resumed the clergyman, again recurring to the death. "But you must surely be mistaken in calling it murder."

      "There's no mistake about it: it was wilful murder. I am as sure of it as though I had seen the aim taken," persisted Mr. Barley. "And I will pursue Heneage to the death."

      "Have you secured him? If it really is murder, he must answer for it. Where is he?"

      Mr. Barley spoke a passionate word. It was a positive fact--account for it, any one that can--that until that moment he had never given a thought to the securing of George Heneage. "What a fool I have been!" he exclaimed, "what an idiot! He has had time to escape."

      "He cannot have escaped far."

      "Stay here, will you, Martin. I'll send the labourers after him; he may be hiding in the wood until the night's darker."

      Mr. Edwin Barley hastened from the hall, and the clergyman bent over the table again. I had my face turned to him, and was scarcely conscious, until it had passed, of something dark that glided from the back of the hall, and followed Mr. Barley out. With him gone, to whom I had taken so unaccountable a dislike and dread, it was my favourable moment for escape; I seemed to fear him more than poor Philip King on the table. But nervous terror held possession of me still, and in moving I cried out in spite of myself. The clergyman looked round.

      "I declare it is little Miss Hereford!" he said, very kindly, as he took my hand. "What brought you there, my dear?"

      I sobbed out the explanation. That I had been pushed into the corner by the table, and was afraid to move. "Don't tell, sir, please! Mr. Edwin Barley might be angry with me. Don't tell him I was there."

      "He would not be angry at a little girl's very natural fears," answered Mr. Martin, stroking my hair. "But I will not tell him. Will you stay by your aunt, Mrs. Edwin Barley?"

      "Yes, please, sir."

      "But where is Mrs. Barley?" he resumed, as he led me towards the stairs.

      "I was wondering, too," interposed Charlotte Delves, who stood at the dining-room door. "A minute ago she was still sitting there. I turned into the room for a moment, and when I came back she was gone."

      "She must have gone upstairs, Miss Delves."

      "I suppose she has, Mr. Martin," was Miss Delves's reply. But a thought came over me that it must have been Mrs. Edwin Barley who had glided out at the hall-door.

      And, in point of fact, it was. She was sought for upstairs, and could not be found; she was sought for downstairs, all in vain. Whither had she gone? On what errand was she bent? One of those raw, damp fogs, prevalent in the autumn months, had come on, making the air wet, as if with rain, and she had no out-door things on, no bonnet, and her black silk dress had a low body end short sleeves. Was she with her husband, searching the wood for George Heneage?

      The dark oak-door that shut out the passage leading to the domains of the servants was pushed open, and Jemima's head appeared at it. I ran and laid hold of her.

      "Oh, Jemima, let me stay by you!"

      "Hark!" she whispered, putting her arm round me. "There are horses galloping up to the house."

      Two police-officers, mounted. They gave their horses in charge to one of the men-servants, and came into the hall, the scabbards of their swords clanking against the steps.

      "I don't like the look of them," whispered Jemima. "Let us go away."

      She took me to the kitchen. Sarah, Mary, and the cook were in it; the latter a tall, stout woman, with a rosy colour and black eyes. Her chief concern seemed to be for the dinner.

      "Look here," she exclaimed to Jemima, as she stood over her saucepans, "everything's a-spiling. Who's to know whether they'll have it served in one hour or in two?"

      "I should think they wouldn't have it served at all," returned Jemima: "that sight in the hall's enough dinner for them to-day, one would suppose. The police are come now."

      "Ah, it is bad, I know," said the cook. "And the going to look at it took everything else out of my head, worse luck to me! I forgot my soles were on the fire, and when I got back they were burnt to the pan. I've had to skin 'em now, and put 'em into wine sauce. Who's this coming in?"

      It was Miss Delves. The cook appealed to her about the dinner.

      "It won't be eatable, ma'am, if it's kept much longer. Some of the dishes is half cold, and some's dried up to a scratchin'."

      "There's no help for it, cook; you must manage it in the best way you can," was Miss Delves's reply. "It is a dreadful thing to have happened, but I suppose dinner must be served all the same for the master and Mrs. Edwin Barley."

      "Miss Delves, is it true what they are saying--that it was Mr. Heneage who did it?" inquired Sarah.

      "Suppose you trouble yourself with your own affairs, and let alone what does not concern you," was Miss Delves's reprimand.

      She left the kitchen. Jemima made a motion of contempt after her, and gave the door a bang.

      "She'll put in her word against Mr. Heneage, I know; for she didn't like him. But I am confident it was never he that did it--unless his gun went off accidental."

      For full an hour by the clock we stayed in the kitchen, uninterrupted, the cook reducing herself to a state of despair over the uncalled-for dinner. The men-servants had been sent out, some to one place, some to another. The cook served us some coffee and bread-and-butter, but I don't think any one of us touched the latter. I thought by that time my aunt must surely have come in, and asked Jemima to take me upstairs to her. A policeman was in the hall as we passed across the back of it, and Charlotte Delves and Mr. Martin were sitting in the dining-room, the door open. Mrs. Edwin Barley was nowhere to be found, and we went back to the kitchen. I began to cry; a dreadful fear came upon me that she might have gone away for ever, and left me to the companionship of Mr. Edwin Barley.

      "Come and sit down here, child," said the cook, in a motherly way, as she placed a low stool near the fire. "It's enough to frighten her, poor little stranger, to have this happen, just as she comes into the house."

      "I say, though, where can the mistress be!" Jemima said to her, in a low tone, as I drew the stool into the shade and sat down, leaning my head against the wall.

      Presently Miss Delves's bell rang. The servants said they always knew her ring--it came with СКАЧАТЬ