WHAT CAN SHE MEAN?
We had promised to go and see Lady Lorrimer again next day at the same
hour. My head was still full of her. Mamma did not come down to
breakfast; so I interrupted papa at his newspaper to sound him, very
much as I had sounded her.
"Why doesn't she stay at home, and go out?" he repeated, smiling faintly
as he did so. "I suppose she understands her own business; I can't
say--but you mustn't say anything of that kind before her. She has done
some foolish things, and got herself talked about; and you'll hear it
all, I daresay, time enough. She's not a bit worse than other people,
but a much greater fool; so don't ask people those questions, it would
vex your mamma, and do nobody any good, do you see?"
Shortly after this, Miss Pounden came down to tell me that we were not
going to see Lady Lorrimer that day. I was horribly disappointed, and
ran up to the drawing-room, where mamma then was, to learn the cause of
our visit being put off.
"Here, dear, is my aunt's note," she said, handing it to me, and
scarcely interrupting her consultation with her maid about the millinery
they were discussing. It was open, and I read these words:
"My dear Mabel,--I must say good-bye a little earlier than I had
intended. My plans are upset. I find my native air insupportable,
and fly northward for my life! I am thinking at present of Buxton
for a few days; the weather is so genial here, that my doctor tells
me I may find it still endurable in that cold region. It grieves
me not to see your dear faces before I go. Do not let your pretty
daughter forget me. I may, it is just possible, return through
London--so we may meet soon again. I shall have left Mivart's and
begun my journey before this note reaches you. God bless you, my
dear Mabel!--Your affectionate
Aunt."
So she was actually gone! What a dull day it would be! Well, there was
no good in railing at fate. But was I ever to see that charming lady
more?
In my drive that day with Miss Pounden, thinking it was just possible
that Lady Lorrimer, whimsical as she was said to be, might have once
more changed her mind, I called at Mivart's to inquire. She was no
longer there. She had left with bag and baggage, and all her servants,
that morning at nine o'clock. I had called with very little hope of
finding that her journey had been delayed, and I drove away with even
that small hope extinguished. She was my Mary, Queen of Scots. She had
done something too rash and generous for the epicurean, sarcastic, and
specious society of London. From the little that papa had said, I
conjectured that Lady Lorrimer's secession from society was not quite
voluntary; but she interested me all the more. In my dull life the loss
of my new acquaintance so soon was a real blow. Mamma was not much of a
companion to me. She liked to talk of people she knew, and to people who
knew them. Except what concerned my dress and accomplishments, we had as
yet no topics in common.
Dear Laura Grey, how I missed you now! The resentment I had felt at
first was long since quite lost in my real sorrow, and there remained
nothing but affectionate regrets.
I take up the thread of my personal narrative where I dropped it on the
day of my ineffectual visit at Lady Lorrimer's hotel. In the afternoon
Doctor Droqville came to see mamma. He had been to see Lady Lorrimer
that morning, just before she set out on her journey.
"She was going direct to Buxton, as she hinted to you," said Doctor
Droqville, "and I advised her to make a week's stay there. When she
leaves it, she says she is going on to Westmoreland, and to stay for a
fortnight or three weeks at Golden Friars. She's fanciful; there was
gout in her family, and she is full of gouty whims and horrors. She is
as well as a woman of her years need be, if she would only believe it."
"Have you heard lately from Mr. Carmel?" asked mamma.
I listened with a great deal of interest for the answer.
"Yes, I heard this morning," he replied. "He's in Wales."
"Not at Malory?" said mamma.
"No, not at Malory; a good way from Malory."
I should have liked to ask how long he had been in Wales, for I had been
secretly offended at his apparent neglect of me; but I could not muster
courage for the question.
Next morning I took it into my head that I should like a walk; and with
mamma's leave, Miss Pounden and I set out, of course keeping among the
quiet streets in the neighbourhood. While, as we walked, I was in high
chat with Miss Pounden, who was chiefly a listener, and sometimes, I
must admit, a rather absent one, I raised my eyes and could scarcely
believe their report. Not ten yards away, walking up the flagged way
towards us, were two figures. One was Lady Lorrimer I was certain. She
was dressed in a very full velvet cloak, and had a small book in her
hand. At her left, at a distance of more than a yard, walked a woman in
a peculiar costume. This woman looked surly, and stumped beside her with
a limp, as if one leg were shorter than the other. They approached at a
measured pace, looking straight before them, and in total silence.
My eyes were fixed on Lady Lorrimer with a smile, which I every moment
expected would be answered by one of recognition from her. But no such
thing. She must have seen me; but nearer and nearer they came. They
never deviated from their line of march. Lady Lorrimer continued to look
straight before her. It was the sternest possible "cut," insomuch that I
felt actually incredulous, and began to question my first
identification. Her velvet actually brushed my dress as I stood next
the railings. She passed me with her head high, and the same stony look.
"Shall we go on, dear?" asked Miss Pounden, who did not understand why
we had come to a standstill.
I moved on in silence; but the street being a very quiet one, I turned
about for a last look. I saw them ascend the steps of a house, and at
the same moment the door opened, and Mr. Carmel came out, with his hat
in his hand, and followed the two ladies in. The door was then shut. We
resumed our walk homeward. We had a good many streets to go through, and
I did not know my way. I was confounded, and walked on in utter silence,
looking down in confused rumination on the flags under my feet.
Till we got home I did not say a word; and then I sat down in my room,
and meditated on that odd occurrence, as well as my perturbation would
let me. It was a strange mixture of surprise, doubt, and intense
mortification. It was very stupid of me not to have ascertained at the
time the name of the street which was the scene of this incident. Miss
Pounden had never seen either Lady Lorrimer or Mr. Carmel; and the
occurrence had not made the least impression upon her. She could not
therefore help me, ever so little, next day, to recover the name of the
street in which I had stood still for a few seconds, looking at she knew
not what. There was just a film of doubt, derived from the inexplicable
behaviour of the supposed Lady Lorrimer. When I told mamma, she at first
insisted it was quite impossible. But, as I persisted, and went into
detail, she said it was very odd. She was thoughtful for a little time,
and sighed. Then she made me repeat all I had told her, and seemed very
uncomfortable, but did not comment upon it. At length she said:
"You must promise me, Ethel, not to say a word about it to your papa. It
would only lead to vexation. I have good reasons for thinking so. Speak
of it to no one. Let the matter rest. I don't think I shall ever
understand some people. But let us talk about it no more."
And with this charge the subject dropped.