"Why!--it must be some one from that woman at Lefford!" exclaimed Miss
Deveen, in an undertone to me. "Oh no; I remember now, Johnny; Dr. Knox
was the step-son; _he_ was away, and had nothing to do with it. Show Dr.
Knox in, George."
A tall man in black, whom one might have taken anywhere for a doctor,
with a grave, nice face, came in. He said his visit was to Miss Carey,
as he took the chair George placed near his mistress. Just a few words,
and then we knew the whole, and saw a small sealed-up box in his hand,
which contained the remains of the bank-note.
"I am more glad than if you brought Janet a purse of gold!" cried Miss
Deveen, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Not that I think any one
could have doubted her, Dr. Knox--not even your step-mother, in her
heart,--but it is satisfactory to have it cleared up. It has made Miss
Carey very ill; but this will set her at rest."
"Your servant told me Miss Carey was ill," he said. "It was for her I
asked."
With a face of concern, he listened to what Miss Deveen had to say of
the illness. When she spoke of Janet's fright at seeing the policeman at
the Colosseum, his brow went red and he bit his lips. Next came the
sleep-walking: she told it all.
"Her brain and nerves must have been overstrained to an alarming
degree," he observed, after a short silence. "Mr. Shuttleworth, who
attended her at the time, spoke to me of the shock to the system. But I
hoped she had recovered."
"She would never have recovered, Dr. Knox, as long as the dread lay
upon her that she was to be criminally prosecuted: at least, that is my
opinion," said Miss Deveen. "I believe the chief thing that ails her is
_fright_. Not a knock at the door, not the marching past the house of a
policeman, not the sudden entrance of a servant into the room, but has
brought to her a shock of agonizing fear. It is a mercy that she has
escaped brain-fever. After all, she must possess a good constitution.
The sight of that Lefford man at the Colosseum did great mischief."
"It was unfortunate that he should happen to be there," said Dr. Knox:
"and that the man should have dared to accost her with his insolence!
But I shall inquire into it."
"What you have in that box will be the best medicine for her," said Miss
Deveen. "It will speedily effect a cure--or call me an untrue prophet.
Dear me! how strangely things come out!"
"May I be allowed to see Miss Carey?" asked Dr. Knox. "And to--to tell
her the story of her clearance in my own way?"
Miss Deveen made no reply. She looked at Dr. Knox, and seemed to
hesitate.
"I think it may be better for Miss Carey that I should, madam. For more
reasons than one."
"And really I don't see why you should not," said Miss Deveen,
heartily. "I hesitated because Mr. Black forbade the admission of
strangers. But--perhaps you are not a stranger to her?"
"Oh dear, no: I and Miss Carey are old friends," he answered, a curious
smile lighting up his face. "And I should also wish to see her in my
medical capacity."
But the one to put in her word against this, was Cattledon. She came
down looking green, and protesting in Miss Deveen's ear that no male
subject in her Majesty's dominions, save and except Mr. Black, ought to
be admitted to the blue-room. Janet had no full dress on; nothing but
skirts and a shawl.
"Oh, nonsense!" cried Miss Deveen. "Why, Dr. Knox might have seen her
had she been in bed: he is a physician." And she took him up herself to
the blue-room.
"Of all old maids that Cattledon's the worst!" nodded Helen Whitney.
Miss Deveen went in alone, leaving him outside the door. Janet sat in an
armchair by the fire, muffled in an old brown shawl of Cattledon's.
"And how do you feel now, my dear?" said Miss Deveen, quietly. "Better,
I see. And oh, I have such pleasant news for you: an old friend of yours
has called to see you; and I think--I think--he will be able to cure you
sooner than Mr. Black. It is Dr. Knox, my dear: not of Lefford now, you
know: of London."
She called the doctor in, and Janet's pale cheeks took a tint of
crimson. Janet's face had never been big: but as he stood looking at
her, her hand in his, he was shocked to see how small it had become.
Miss Deveen shut the door upon them. She hoped with all her heart he was
not going to spare that woman at Lefford.
"Janet, my dear," he said in a fatherly kind of way as he drew a chair
near her and kept her hand, "when that trouble happened at home, how was
it you did not write to me?"
"Write to _you_! Oh, sir, I could not do such a thing," answered Janet,
beginning to tremble.
"But you might have known I should be your friend. You might also have
known that I should have been able to clear you."
"I did once think of writing to you, Dr. Knox: just to tell you that I
had not indeed touched the bank-note," faltered Janet. "As the money
came from you, I should have liked to write so much. But I did not
dare."
"And you preferred to suffer all these weeks of pain, and the fright
brought upon you by Mrs. Knox--for which," said he deliberately, "I
shall never forgive her--rather than drop me a few lines! You must never
be so foolish again, Janet. I should have gone to Lefford at once and
searched out the mystery of the note--and found it."
Janet moved her lips and shook her head, as much as to say that he could
never have done that.
"But I have done it," said he. "I have been down to Lefford and found it
all out, and have brought the bank-note up with me--what remains of it.
Sally was the culprit."
"Sally!" gasped Janet, going from red to white.
"Sally--but not intentionally. She lighted the fire that afternoon with
the note and some more scraps. The note fell out, only partly burnt; and
I am going to take it to the bank that they may exchange it for a whole
one."
"And--will--they?" panted Janet.
"Of course they will; it is in the regular course of business that they
should," affirmed Dr. Knox, deeming it best to be positive for her sake.
"Now, Janet, if you are to tremble like this, I shall go away and send
up Miss Cattledon--and she does not look as if she had a very amiable
temper. Why, my dear child, you ought to be glad."
"Oh, so I am, so I am!" she said, breaking into sobs. "And--and does
every one in Lefford know that I was innocent?"
"No one in Lefford believed you guilty. Of course, it is all known, and
in the newspapers too--how Sally lighted the fire with a fifty-pound
bank-note, and the remains were fished out of the ashes."
"Mrs. Knox--Mrs. Knox----" She could not go on for agitation.
"As to Mrs. Knox, I am not sure but we might prosecute her. Rely upon
one thing, Janet: that she will not be very well welcomed at her beloved
soirées for some long time to come."
Janet looked at the fire and thought. Dr. Knox kept silence, that she
might recover herself after the news.
"I shall get well now," she said in a half-whisper. "I shall
soon"--turning to him--"be able to take another situation. Do you think
Mrs. Knox will give me a recommendation?"
"Yes, that she will--when it's wanted," said he, with a queer smile.
She sat in silence again, a tinge of colour in her face, and seeing
fortunes in the fire. "Oh, the relief, the relief!" she murmured,
slightly lifting her hands. "To feel that I may be at peace and fear
nothing! I am very thankful to you, Dr. Knox, for all things."
"Do you know what I think would do you good?" said Dr. Knox suddenly.
"A drive. The day is so fine, the air so balmy: I am sure it would
strengthen you. Will you go?"
"If you please, sir. I do feel stronger, since you told me this."
He went down and spoke to Miss Deveen. She heartily agreed: anything
that would benefit the poor girl, she said; and the carriage was coming
round to the door, for she had been thinking of going out herself.
Cattledon could not oppose them, for she had stepped over to the
curate's.
"Would you very much mind--would you pardon me if I asked to be allowed
to accompany her alone?" said Dr. Knox, hurriedly to Miss Deveen, as
Janet was coming downstairs on Lettice's arm, dressed for the drive.
Miss Deveen was taken by surprise. He spoke as though he were flurried,
and she saw the red look on his face.
"I can take care of her as perhaps no one else could," he added with a
smile. "And I--I want to ask her a question, Miss Deveen."
"I--think--I--understand you," she said, smiling back at him. "Well, you
shall go. Miss Cattledon will talk of propriety, though, when she comes
home, and be ready to snap us all up."
And Cattledon was so. When she found Janet had been let go for a slow
and easy drive, with no escort but Dr. Knox inside and the fat coachman
on the box, she conjectured that Miss Deveen must have taken leave of
her senses. Cattledon took up her station at the window to wait for
their return, firing out words of temper every other second.
The air must have done Janet good. She came in from the carriage on Dr.
Knox's arm, her cheeks bright, her pretty eyes cast down, and looking
quite another girl.
"Have you put your question, Dr. Knox?" asked Miss Deveen, meeting him
in the hall, while Janet came on.
"Yes, and had it answered," he said brightly. "Thank you, dear Miss
Deveen; I see we have your sympathies."
She just took his hand in hers and squeezed it. It was the first day she
had seen him, but she liked his face.
Cattledon began upon Janet at once. If she felt well enough to start off
on promiscuous drives, she must be well enough to see about a situation.
"I have been speaking to her of one, Miss Cattledon," said Dr. Knox,
catching the words as he came in. "I think she will accept it."
"Where is it?" asked Cattledon.
"At Lefford."
"She shall never go back to Rose Villa with my consent, sir. And I think
you ought to know better than to propose it to her."
"To Rose Villa! Certainly not: at least at present. Rose Villa will be
hers, though; the only little settlement that can be made upon her."
The words struck Cattledon silent. But she could see through a brick
wall.
"Perhaps _you_ want her, young man?"
"Yes, I do. I should have wanted her before this, but that I had no home
to offer her. I have one now; and good prospects too. Janet has had it
all explained to her. Perhaps you will allow me to explain it to you,
Miss Cattledon."
"I'm sure it's more than Janet Carey could have expected," said
Cattledon, growing pacified as she listened. "She's a poor thing. I
hope she will make a good wife."
"I will risk it, Miss Cattledon."
"And she shall be married from my house," struck in Miss Deveen.
"Johnny, if you young Oxford blades can get here for it, I will have you
all to the wedding."
And we did get there for it: I, and Tod, and William Whitney, and saw
the end, so far, of Janet Carey.