All she could repeat, with every appearance of being seriously agitated herself, was that Anne must go, that she must go with her, and that the destination to which they might both betake themselves must be kept a secret from everybody. I spare you the recital of Mrs Todd's hospitable remonstrances and refusals. It ended in her driving them both to the nearest station, more than three hours since. She tried hard on the way to get them to speak more plainly, but without success; and she set them down outside the station-door, so hurt and offended by the unceremonious abruptness of their departure and their unfriendly reluctance to place the least confidence in her, that she drove away in anger, without so much as stopping to bid them good-bye.
That is exactly what has taken place. Search your own memory, Mr Hartright, and tell me if anything happened in the burial-ground yesterday evening which can at all account for the extraordinary departure of those two women this morning.'
‘I should like to account first, Miss Halcombe, for the sudden change in Anne Catherick which alarmed them at the farmhouse, hours after she and I had parted, and when time enough had elapsed to quiet any violent agitation that I might have been unfortunate enough to cause. Did you inquire particularly about the gossip which was going on in the room when she turned faint?'
‘Yes. But Mrs Todd's household affairs seem to have divided her attention that evening with the talk in the farmhouse parlour. She could only tell me that it was ‘‘just the news,'' -- meaning, I suppose, that they all talked as usual about each other.'
‘The dairymaid's memory may be better than her mother's,' I said. ‘It may be as well for you to speak to the girl, Miss Halcombe, as soon as we get back.'
My suggestion was acted on the moment we returned to the house. Miss Halcombe led me round to the servants' offices, and we found the girl in the dairy, with her sleeves tucked up to her shoulders, cleaning a large milk-pan and singing blithely over her work.
‘I have brought this gentleman to see your dairy, Hannah,' said Miss Halcombe. ‘It is one of the sights of the house, and it always does you credit.'
The girl blushed and curtseyed, and said shyly that she hoped she always did her best to keep things neat and clean.
‘We have just come from your father's,' Miss Halcombe continued. ‘You were there yesterday evening, I hear, and you found visitors at the house?'
‘Yes, miss.'
‘One of them was taken faint and ill, I am told? I suppose nothing was said or done to frighten her? You were not talking of anything very terrible, were you?'
‘Oh no, miss!' said the girl, laughing. ‘We were only talking of the news.'
‘Your sisters told you the news at Todd's Corner, I suppose?'
Yes, miss.
‘And you told them the news at Limmeridge House?'
‘Yes, miss. And I'm quite sure nothing was said to frighten the poor thing, for I was talking when she was taken ill. It gave me quite a turn, miss, to see it, never having been taken faint myself.'
Before any more questions could be put to her, she was called away to receive a basket of eggs at the dairy door. As she left us I whispered to Miss Halcombe --
‘Ask her if she happened to mention, last night, that visitors were expected at Limmeridge House.'
Miss Halcombe showed me, by a look, that she understood, and put the question as soon as the dairymaid returned to us.
‘Oh yes, miss, I mentioned that,' said the girl simply. ‘The company coming, and the accident to the brindled cow, was all the news I had to take to the farm.'
‘Did you mention names? Did you tell them that Sir Percival Glyde was expected on Monday?'
‘Yes, miss -- I told them Sir Percival Glyde was coming. I hope there was no harm in it -- I hope I didn't do wrong.'
‘Oh no, no harm. Come, Mr Hartright, Hannah will begin to think us in the way, if we interrupt her any longer over her work.'
We stopped and looked at one another the moment we were alone again.
‘Is there any doubt in your mind, now, Miss Halcombe?'
‘Sir Percival Glyde shall remove that doubt, Mr Hartright -- or Laura Fairlie shall never be his wife.' XIV As we walked round to the front of the house a fly from the railway approached us along the drive. Miss Halcombe waited on the door-steps until the fly drew up, and then advanced to shake hands with an old gentleman, who got out briskly the moment the steps were let down. Mr Gilmore had arrived.
I looked at him, when we were introduced to each other, with an interest and a curiosity which I could hardly conceal. This old man was to remain at Limmeridge House after I had left it; he was to hear Sir Percival Glyde's explanation, and was to give Miss Halcombe the assistance of his experience in forming her judgment; he was to wait until the question of the marriage was set at rest; and his hand, if that question were decided in the affirmative, was to draw the settlement which bound Miss Fairlie irrevocably to her engagement. Even then, when I knew nothing by comparison with what I know now, I looked at the family lawyer with am interest which I had never felt before in the presence of any man breathing who was a total stranger to me.
