Ellen knocked at the door of Lady Jane’s morning room and composed her
face for the coming interview. She was quite sure that her request to be
allowed to leave at once would be granted with enthusiasm, but it was
necessary to play her little part with circumspection and dignity.
She found Lady Jane armed to the teeth: to be plain, she was dressed for
motoring, and presented a formidable appearance, besides being evidently
in a hurry. But Miss Scott was not intimidated; on the contrary, she
judged that the interview would be the sooner over.
“I’ve come to ask if you will let me off my engagement, and allow me to
go home,” she said quietly.
Lady Jane stared hard at her for a moment, before speaking.
“Why?”
That was all; but the question was not exactly easy to answer, and she
was quite unprepared for it.
“I shall be very grateful if you will let me go,” she said.
“But why? You must have a reason, and I think I have a right to know
what it is.”
Ellen felt inclined to recall to Lady Jane the tone of the
advertisement, but was afraid that she might be thought vain of her
present improved appearance.
“You have been very kind to me,” she said, after a moment’s thought; “I
shall never forget it. But the greatest kindness of all will be to let
me go home.”
Lady Jane was still standing; she made a step forward, so that she was
quite close to the governess, and she gazed steadily into her eyes.
“Some one has annoyed you,” she said suddenly, with great decision. “I
am quite sure of it. No, my dear, you need not shake your head. I know
it. The fact is, that from being perfectly”--she was going to say
hideous, but checked herself--“from being distinctly plain, you have
grown to be as pretty as a picture! And the usual result has followed!
You’ve turned all their heads!”
“Really, Lady Jane!” cried Miss Scott in a tone of deprecation, and she
could not help blushing in the most charming way possible.
“It’s quite true.” Lady Jane sat down and looked disconsolately at her
neat gaiters. “It’s all my fault for giving you my lotion and making
you dress better,” she added, evidently in extreme dejection.
Ellen bit her lip. “I can’t help being grateful to you for it,” she
said.
“The worst of it is that I’ve grown to like you,” responded Lady Jane in
evident despair. “If it was only because you’re such a good governess,
and have such wonderful influence over the girls, it wouldn’t matter
much, would it?”
Ellen smiled, in spite of herself, but could find nothing to say.
“You see,” Lady Jane continued, “I have never had a governess I liked,
till now. If you knew what I’ve been through with them! There was that
Miss Kirk, with her violet eyes--oh, that Miss Kirk! I wonder I did not
beat her! One of the most delightful moments of my life was when I told
her to go. But you! You’re the ideal! What possessed me, to give you my
lotion! I might have known it would cure you.”
She was really distressed, but Miss Scott did not know what to say.
“I saw it coming,” Lady Jane went on, presently. “I’ve seen this coming
for days and days! Why in the world must all my men be such utter
butterflies--the whole hive of them! I mean--of course, butterflies
don’t live in hives, do they?--oh, you know what I mean! But when I saw
how well you behaved--with such dignity, so unlike that Miss Kirk--well,
I thought you would give them all a lesson, and that there would be
peace. But I suppose that was impossible.”
“But it’s not that, I assure you,” objected Ellen.
“Nonsense! It’s very nice of you to say so, of course, and you may be
sure that I shall not ask you to go into details. That wouldn’t be quite
nice of me, would it? But you can’t go! You simply can’t, for I won’t
let you; and I’m sure I don’t know what is to be done if you stay.”
“I really think I must go, Lady Jane.”
“Oh, no!” cried Lady Jane, with the utmost decision. “That’s quite
ridiculous, you know, so we needn’t talk about it. The question is, what
will happen next? Do you think, perhaps, that if you stop using the
lotion, your complexion will--er----”
“Get blotchy again?” asked Ellen, completing the sentence. “It may, I
suppose; but I think the thing is quite gone. Will you look at my
cheek?”
Lady Jane bent down a little, for she was much the taller, and
carefully examined the cheek in question, poking it with one of her
heavily gloved fingers.
“No,” she said regretfully, “it’s just like a healthy baby’s. Of
course,” she added, with what seemed a happy inspiration, “you could do
your hair as you used to again, like a skinned rabbit. And I suppose you
could wear your clothes in a bunch; and it’s not necessary for your
health for you to stuff out your shoulder. By-the-bye, it’s awfully well
done!”
She put out her hands with the evident intention of touching the
stuffing; but as there was none, Ellen sprang back, dodging away from
her and laughing.
“Oh, please don’t!” she cried.
“What’s the matter?” asked Lady Jane in surprise.
“I’m so dreadfully ticklish about the neck! I really cannot bear to
have any one touch me. I should have a fit!”
“How very odd! Were you always like that? But some people are. Never
mind, I won’t touch you, my dear. Only, if you were willing just to make
those little changes in your appearance--er--it’s a great deal to ask, I
suppose, isn’t it?”
“Well--frankly, it is, Lady Jane,” Ellen laughed, in spite of herself.
But she was immensely disturbed by the unexpected difficulty that faced
her, and she had a vision of being obliged to run away as the only means
of escaping.
“I don’t see what else we can do,” returned Lady Jane. “As for parting
with you, it’s out of the question. My girls are different beings since
you have had them in hand. If you knew what my life has been, since they
were out of the nursery, compared with what it is now, you really
wouldn’t have the heart to talk of leaving me, nor the conscience
either!”
“I’m very, very glad that you are pleased,” Ellen answered, with an air
of meek gratitude, “but I assure you I must----”
“No doubt, but you shan’t, my dear, and there’s an end of it!” Lady Jane
was ready to lose her temper, but laughed to hide the fact. “It’s out of
the question at this moment,” she continued. “We are all going off
to-day, and you must see yourself that the girls cannot be left alone in
the house with Lionel! They would set the place on fire, or go to town
by themselves and get lost, or do some dreadful thing. Don’t you see?”
“I did not know you were all going away,” said Ellen, somewhat
disturbed.
“Yes. We only made up our minds last night, or I would have told you.
Jocelyn is going up with the Trevelyans in their balloon to-morrow
morning, and my husband and I want to see the start; and Claude is to
play for Yorkshire at Lords to-morrow, and when we’ve seen the ascent,
the Colonel wants to watch the match, and I mean to chase the balloon in
the new motor. I’ve got an electric searchlight, with accumulators,
fitted up so that I can see it all night. Rather sporting, that, isn’t
it? We may fetch up at John O’Groat’s House, or at Land’s End, you
know--so delightfully uncertain--you cannot tell which way the thing
will go. But just fancy my anxiety if I knew all the time that those
little pickles were riding steeplechases in the park, or motoring across
country and breaking their necks. It’s too awful to think of!”
“Quite too dreadful,” assented Ellen. “But you won’t be away long, I
suppose? I will stay till you come home, at all events, if you wish it.”
“Wish it? I should think I did! Besides, you must, my dear. So that’s
settled, and we’ll be off, for it’s getting late.”
A quarter of an hour later the huge motor was bowling down the Malton
road, and King’s Follitt was left to Lionel, Miss Scott, and the two
girls, very much to the surprise of all four. For on the previous
evening Lionel had gone off to his books soon after dinner, and had
finished breakfast with his sisters and the governess before any of the
others appeared. Indeed, it was not till luncheon that he knew of their
abrupt departure.
At the first opportunity, Ellen told him about the interview in the
morning, and added that she meant to disappear as soon as the family
returned. That would be the only way open to her.
Lionel was as much surprised as she had been by Lady Jane’s attitude,
but it seemed promising for the future. At all events, when the time
came for him to declare his intention of marrying Miss Scott, he could
remind his mother that she had liked Ellen for her own sake; and as she
was a truthful and just woman, she would not deny it. That would be
something, at all events: matters would have been far worse if she had
hated the governess, as she had hated the former ones, each and all.
“We must be married in June,” Lionel said again, for having once made up
his mind he was not likely to change it. “We will spend the summer
abroad, and go to India next winter. By that time they will have got
used to the idea, and a year hence we can come home.”
“That sounds delightful,” Ellen answered. “I wish we could take my
father, for no one knows India as he does. But then, we couldn’t be
alone all the time, if he came.”
“I should like to take him,” said Lionel. “Perhaps we could bargain for
so many hours a day!”
But they did not take Mr. Herbert Scott of the British Museum to India,
or anywhere else; for things turned out very differently. The Fate of
the Follitts had been dozing comfortably for some time, but now she
suddenly woke up refreshed with sleep, and got into the balloon with
Jocelyn and the Trevelyans, and did queer things, which nobody else
could have done.