VIII
ON THE STAIRS
I did not wake up till morning. The room was so dark that in allprobability I should not have wakened then, if my habits of exactpunctuality had not been aided by a gentle knock at my door.
"Who's there?" I called, for I could not say "Come in" till I had movedmy bed and made way for the door to open.
"Hannah with warm water," replied a voice, at which I made haste torise. Hannah was the woman who had waited on us at dinner.
The sight of her pleasant countenance, which nevertheless looked atrifle haggard, was a welcome relief after the sombre features of thenight. Addressing her with my usual brusqueness, but with quite my usualkindness, I asked how the young ladies were feeling this morning.
Her answer made a great show of frankness.
"Oh, they are much as usual," said she. "Miss Loreen is in the kitchenand Miss Lucetta will soon be here to inquire how you are. I hope youpassed a good night yourself, ma'am."
I had slept more than I ought to, perhaps, and made haste to reassureher as to my own condition. Then seeing that a little talk would not beunwelcome to this hearty woman, tired to death possibly with life inthis dreary house, I made some excuse for keeping her a few minutes,saying as I did so:
"What an immense dwelling this is for four persons to live in, or haveyou another inmate whom I have not seen?"
I thought her buxom color showed a momentary sign of failing, but it allcame back with her answer, which was given in a round, hearty voice.
"Oh, I'm the only maid, ma'am. I cook and sweep and all. I couldn'tabide another near me. Even Mr. Simsbury, who tends the cow and horseand who only comes in for his dinner, worries me by spells. I like tohave my own way in the kitchen, except when the young ladies choose tocome in. Is there anything more you want, ma'am, and do you prefer teaor coffee for breakfast?"
I told her that I always drank coffee in the morning, and would haveliked to have added a question or two, but she gave me no chance. As shewent out I saw her glance at my candlestick. There was only ahalf-burned end in it. She is calculating, too, how long I sat up,thought I.
Lucetta stood at the head of the stairs as I went down.
"Will you excuse me for a few moments?" said she. "I am not quite readyto follow you, but will be soon."
"I will take a look at the grounds."
I thought she hesitated for a moment; then her face lighted up. "Be sureyou don't encounter the dog," she cried, and slipped hastily down a sidehall I had not noticed the night before.
"Ah, a good way to keep me in," I reasoned. "But I shall see the groundsyet if I have to poison that dog." Notwithstanding, I made no haste toleave the house. I don't believe in tempting Providence, especiallywhere a dog is concerned.
Instead of that, I stood still and looked up and down the halls,endeavoring to get some idea of their plan and of the location of my ownroom in reference to the rest.
I found that the main hall ran at right angles to the long corridor downwhich I had just come, and noting that the doors opening into it were ofa size and finish vastly superior to those I had passed in the corridorjust mentioned, I judged that the best bedrooms all lay front, and thatI had been quartered at the end of what had once been considered as theservants' hall. At my right, as I looked down the stairs, ran a wallwith a break, which looked like an opening into another corridor, andindeed I afterward learned that the long series of rooms of which minewas the last, had its counterpart on the other side of this enormousdwelling, giving to the house the shape of a long, square U.
I was looking in some wonderment at this opening and marvelling over theextravagant hospitality of those old days which necessitated such anumber of rooms in a private gentleman's home, when I heard a door openand two voices speaking. One was rough and careless, unmistakably thatof William Knollys. The other was slow and timid, and was just asunmistakably that of the man who had driven me to this house the daybefore. They were talking of some elderly person, and I had good senseenough not to allow my indignation to blind me to the fact that by thatelderly person they meant me. This is important, for their words werenot without significance.
"How shall we keep the old girl out of the house till it is all over?"was what I heard from William's surly lips.
"Lucetta has a plan," was the hardly distinguishable answer. "I am totake----"
That was all I could hear; a closing door shut off the remainder.Something, then, was going on in this house, of a dark if not mysteriouscharacter, and the attempts made by these two interesting and devotedgirls to cover up the fact, by explanations founded on their poverty,had been but subterfuges after all. Grieved on their account, butinwardly grateful to the imprudence of their more than reckless brother,for this not-to-be-mistaken glimpse into the truth, I slowly descendedthe stairs, in that state of complete self-possession which is given bya secret knowledge of the intentions formed against us by those whoseactions we have reason to suspect.
Henceforth I had but one duty--to penetrate the mystery of thishousehold. Whether it was the one suspected by Mr. Gryce or another of aless evil and dangerous character hardly mattered in my eyes. While theblight of it rested upon this family, eyes would be lowered and headsshaken at their name. This, if I could help it, must no longer be. Ifguilt lay at the bottom of all this fear, then this guilt must be known;if innocence--I thought of the brother's lowering brow and felt itincompatible with innocence, but remembering Mr. Gryce's remarks on thissubject, read an instant lecture to myself and, putting all conclusionsaside, devoted the few minutes in which I found myself alone in thedining-room to a careful preparation of my mind for its duty, which wasnot likely to be of the simplest character if Lucetta's keen wits wereto be pitted against mine.
Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth Page 9