“He is so good to us, Diana--like a father. And I had always lived in
such terror of his mere name. How easily we may be deceived.”
“Yes, child,” I answered. “How easily--how easily.”
Her pulses answered to my tone, I could feel again. She slipped upon
her knees before me, and clasping her hands looked up, dumbly
questioning, into my face.
“You are so simple, _ma mignonette_; I hardly know how to tell you,” I
began pitifully.
“Tell me! O, what, Diana? I am frightened.”
“I wish you to be. Patty”--I took her two entreating hands into one of
mine, and with the other made a significant gesture--“all this--these
little costly gifts--has it never occurred to you, child, that they
are bribes”-- I stopped.
“To me?” she whispered, with a whole heart of astonishment.
“To your honour, child.”
“To--?”
She gulped, and turned as pale as death.
“He has promised to show you his Richmond cottage?”
“Yes.”
“To-night?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Never mind. I know. You must not go.”
“How can I help it? Diana!”
She sunk down before me, quite helpless and unnerved.
“Patty,” I said, “you have never ceased to love and trust your
sister?”
“Never, never--you are before all the world to me. Diana! You will
find a way!”
“If you are strong--yes. I have been alert and watchful, child, while
you never knew it. But he did; and he means to separate us; to rid
himself of the watch-dog, that he may seize the lamb. He has but this
moment told me I must go--with what coarseness and insult I will not
soil your ears by repeating. If you love your honour, as I love and
have sacrificed myself to save it, you must come with me.”
“I will come”--she rose hurriedly to her feet. “How can I ever repay
you, sister? The old, wicked man! At once--Diana! let us fly at once!”
“Hush! We must be circumspect. You don’t know-- There, child, I will
die to save you.”
She clung to me, in a gush of silent tears. Hastily I instructed
her--it was necessary in escaping to leave no trail--in my plan. It
was that, in an hour’s time, she should order out her barouche (there
was one put at her disposal), and, having driven to Grosvenor Gate,
alight and dismiss it, as if with the intention to walk in the park.
Thence she was to make her way on foot to Mrs. Trix’s toy-shop in
Piccadilly, and, having asked very privately to be shown into the
parlour, await me there, in whatever company she should find.
She obeyed, heedful, in her panic, to the last details. Luckily, my
lord, being gone abroad to his lawyers, there were no prying eyes to
criticise her. No sooner was she driven off than--having collected
into a stocking all our jewels, and whatever money I could lay hands
on, which I hung from my waist out of sight--I stole forth by the back
way into the stables, and thence to the street, where I found a
hackney coach, and drove after my friend.
I found her, as I had hoped, with Mr. Roper. He looked mighty serious
over our escapade, but informed me that he had loyally attended to my
instructions, and procured us a lodging, as for two country ladies who
had come up to view the sights, in as distant a part of the town as he
could compass on short notice. We went out immediately by a side door,
and, having all got into a coach that was in waiting, were driven to
Holborn, where we alighted, and thence, for precaution, walked to a
quiet house in Great Coram Street, near the Foundlings, where our
handsome escort left us, promising to call, at discretion, in a few
days, and recommending us in the meanwhile to lie as close as rabbits
in a furrow.
He was as good as his word, coming in a week later, after dark, with a
face as long as a lawyer’s writ.
“Well, madam,” he said, “you have cut the ground from under your own
feet with a vengeance.”