"Why should I disturb her more than Miss Crossland?" I replied.
"Sisters do not make strangers of each other."
"Oh, she does not expect you: and indeed, Miss Caroline,--do let me beg
of you,--Dr Summerfield did just hint yesterday--just a hint, you
understand,--about small-pox. I could not on any account let you go up,
for your own sake."
"Is my sister so ill as that?" I replied. "I think we might have
expected to be told it sooner. Then, Madam, I shall certainly go up.
Miss Crossland, will you show me the way?"
I do not know whether Mrs Crossland thought me bold and unladylike, but
if she had known how every bit of me was trembling, she might perhaps
have changed that view.
"O Miss Caroline, how can you? I could not allow Annabella to do such a
thing. Think of the clanger!--Annabella, come back! You shall not go
into an infected air."
"Pardon me, Madam, but I thought you proposed yourself to send Miss
Annabella. Then I will not trouble any one. I can find the way
myself."
And resolutely closing the door behind me, up-stairs I walked. I did
not believe a word about Hatty having the small-pox: but if I had done,
I should have done the same. I heard behind me exclamations of--"That
bold, brazen thing! She will find out all. Annabella, call Godfrey!
call him! That hussy must not--"
I was up-stairs by this time. I rapped at the first door, and had no
answer; the second was the same. From the third I heard the sound of
weeping, and a man's voice, which I thought I recognised as that of Mr
Crossland.
"I shall not allow of any more hesitation," he was saying. "You must
make your choice to-day. You have given me trouble enough, and have
made far too many excuses. I shall wait no longer."
"Oh, once more!--only once more!" was the answer, interrupted by
heartrending sobs,--in whose voice I rather guessed than heard.
Neither would I wait any longer. I never thought about ceremony and
gentility, any more than about the possible dangers, known and unknown,
which I might be running. I opened the door and walked straight in.
Mr Crossland stood on the hearth, clad in a queer long black gown, and
a black cap upon his head. On a chair near him sat a girl, her head
bowed down in her hands upon the table, weeping bitterly. Her long dark
hair was partly unfastened, and falling over her shoulder: what I could
see of her face was white as death. Was this white, cowed creature our
once pert, bright Hatty?
"What do you want?" said Mr Crossland, angrily, as he caught sight of
me. "Oh, I beg pardon, Miss Caroline. Your poor sister is suffering so
much to-day. I have been trying to divert her a little, but her pain is
so great. How very good of you to come! Was no one here to show you
anywhere, that you had to come by yourself?"
The bowed head had been lifted up, and the face that met my eyes was one
of the extremest misery. She held out her arms to me with a low, sad,
wailing cry--
"O Cary, Cary, save me! Cannot you save me?"
I walked past that black-robed wretch, and took poor Hatty in my arms,
drawing her head to lie on my bosom.
"Yes, my dear, you shall be saved," I said,--I hope, God said through
me. "Mr Crossland, will you have the goodness to leave my sister to
me?"
If looks had power to kill, I think I should never have spoken again in
this world. Mr Crossland turned on his heel, and walked out of the
room without another word. The moment he was gone, I made a rush at the
door, drew out the key (which was on the outside), locked it, and put
the key on the table. Then I went back to Hatty.
"My poor darling, what have they done to you?"
Somehow, I felt as if I were older than she that day.
But she could not tell me at first. "O Cary, Cary!" seemed to be all
that she could say. I rang the bell, and when somebody tried the door,
I asked the unknown helper to send Miss Amelia Bracewell.
"I beg your pardon, Madam, I dare not," answered a girl's voice.
"Nobody is allowed to enter this chamber but my mistress and Fa--and my
master."
It seemed as if an angel must be helping me, and whispering what to do.
Perhaps it was so.
"Will you be so good as to take a message to the black servant who came
with me?" I said.
"Certainly, Madam."
"Then please to tell him that I wish to speak with him at the door of
this room."
"Madam, forgive me, but I dare not bring any one here."
I tore a blank leaf out of a book on the table. I had a pencil in my
pocket. "Give him this, then; and let no one take it from you. You
shall have a guinea to do it."
"Gemini!" I heard the girl whisper to herself in amazement.
I wrote hastily:--"Beg my Uncle Charles to come this moment, and bring
Dobson. Tell him, if he ever loved either me or Miss Hester, he will do
this. It is a matter of life and death."
"Promise me," I said, unlocking the door to give it to her, "that this
piece of paper shall be in my black servant's hands directly, and that
no one else shall see it."
I spoke to a young girl, apparently one of the lower servants of the
house. Her round eyes opened wide.
"Please do it, Betty!" sobbed poor Hatty. "Do it, for pity's sake!"
"I'll do it for yours, Miss Hester," said the girl, and her kindly,
honest-looking face reassured me. She hid the paper in her bosom, and
ran down. I locked the door again, and went back to Hatty.
"O Cary, dear, God sent you!" she sobbed. "I thought I must give in."
"What are they trying to make you do, Hatty?"