University of Virginia Library

69. CHAPTER LXIX.
RE-APPEARANCE OF THE BIRD OF ILL-OMEN.

It was a headlong and excited rush. She came up the steps with
an agility that no one would have expected from a lady of her
years and figure. Her face glowed; her artificial flowers trembled
with excitement. She precipitated herself into the arms of Miss
Clementina, who awaited her at the door, and clasped that lady
with ecstasy to her bosom.

It is unnecessary to say that it was Miss Clara Fulkson. She wore
her most “stunning” toilet, and the time was early in the forenoon
of the morning after the scenes just described.

Miss Fulkson commenced with the unwonted phrase,

“Oh—h—h! my dear Clementina!”

She then fired off six kisses in succession on the cheek of the
lady addressed.

“I am so glad to see you, dearest Clementina! Glad is not the
word! Overjoyed!—quite overjoyed! And this dreadful, dreadful
occurrence!—I have heard all about it!—that is to say, something
about it. What has happened? I'm dying to hear about it,
dearest.”

In her agitation, Miss Fulkson drew her friend, rather than waited
to be drawn, into the parlor.

“Dreadful! is it not? I am quite overcome. Jenny, my maid,
told me. Jim came over to our house late last night and told Jenny,
who is his sweetheart. And it was the first I knew of that woman's
being here! Oh! Clementina! how could you be so unfriendly as
not to—write to me at once, and tell me all!”

Miss Clementina had waited, as usual. Her friend required a
certain amount of indulgence, on the safety-valve principle.

“It certainly is a dreadful thing to have her here, dear Clara,”
she now said.

“Oh, tell me all about it!”

Miss Fulkson was silenced by her curiosity, and her friend proceeded
to relate how Fanny had been hurt, how the lady in black
had come through the snow on the same night, trembling, exhausted,
and crying “Oh! my child! my child!”—and how, on the
preceding evening, Mr. St. Leger had recognized her; how Harley
had come into the room where she was sitting, and how, unable to
bear the meeting, she had fainted.

Miss Fulkson listened with avidity, and only controlled her excitement,
and desire to explode, by an effort.

“I fear there is no doubt at all of it now,” said Miss Clementina,
shaking her head.

“Doubt! Who could doubt? Oh! my dear Clementina.”

“They have betrayed themselves.”

“Yes, betrayed themselves! I knew it from the first! I knew it
would all come out. Oh! isn't it dreadful—dreadful!”

“Especially as poor Evelyn has been mixed up with it.”

“Yes, Evelyn! dear Evelyn! How she must feel now! To encourage
Mr. Harley so openly—eveybody is speaking of it—and to
find that he has a wife!”

Miss Clementina groaned.

“What will they do?” said Miss Fulkson, excitedly.

Miss Clementina shook her head dismally.

“She cannot remain here, of course—I mean that woman,” said
Miss Fulkson.

Her friend made no reply.

“Clementina!” exclaimed Miss Fulkson, with reproachful sternness,
“do I understand that you think differently, and will permit
this woman—this common actress—to remain a member of the Blandfield
household!”

“My dear,” said Miss Clementina, with some remains of her good
sense, “it is not my house.”

“But you are its mistress in reality. You should take a decided
stand, Clementina! As your friend and the friend of the family, I
say a decided stand must be taken.”

Miss Clementina looked dubious and unhappy.

“Poor little Fanny would mourn over her absence.”

“Fanny? Who is Fanny? A poor child really—a mere little
chit, if I have heard rightly—the daughter of a backwoodsman.
We must think of our own families—of Evelyn.”

A sigh greeted the remonstrance.

“And Mr. Harley—had he the audacity to speak to her?”

“He did not utter a word.”

“Then he did not—acknowledge her?”

“He seemed too much overcome.”

“But she—she fainted. That is enough! Oh! Clementina! Of
all the dreadful things that I have ever heard—but he will not dare
to come back! He will not dare to hold any communication with
her! He will not—”

The knocker rose and fell, indicating that some one was at the
front door, and looking through the window, Miss Clementina recognized
Harley's servant from Huntsdon.

“Here is his servant!” she exclaimed.

“Whose?”

“Mr. Harley's.”

“Oh! Clementina! Run—run—find what he came for!”

Miss Clementina did not run, but she walked with unusual rapidity
to the door, and opening it, confronted the servant, who
bowed deferentially and gave her a note.

“From Mr. Harley?”

“Yes, mistress.”

Miss Clementina looked at it. It was addressed

For a moment Miss Clementina gazed at the words with a sort of
stupor. She was aroused by the voice of the old servant:

“Any answer, mistress?”

“None—I suppose,” said the lady, unconsciously, whereupon the
old servant made another bow, and, mounting his horse, rode
away.

When Miss Clementina, hastening into the drawing-room, exhibited
the note to her friend, that friend was seized with such a fit
of indignation and curiosity combined that for some moments she
could only gasp.

“A—letter!” she exclaimed, at length. “A letter—from him—
to her! Oh! Clementina! isn't it dreadful, dreadful, DREADFUL!”

The “dreadfuls” were uttered in crescendo. The last rose to a
species of scream.

“Very outrageous, indeed!” her friend said, speaking with decided
irritation.

“Let me look at it! Such an address! `To the lady who fainted
last night!' The `lady!'—Clementina?”

Her friend recognized in the utterances of her name that rising
inflection which indicates, on the part of a person speaking, the
desire to attract the especial attention of the person addressed with
a view to a further communication.

“Clara?”

She looked at the lady as she spoke. Miss Fulkson's expression
was significant. She had placed Harley's letter on her lap, covering
it with her hand.

“This is a question of duty, Clementina,” said Miss Fulkson, decisively.

“Of duty?”

“Of duty in you, as the lady at the head of this house, and as
Evelyn's aunt.”

“What do you mean, Clara?”

“Oh! Clementina, can you doubt what I mean. Think of it!
Here is a respectable and honorable family living in peace and happiness,
with a young and innocent child—I mean our dear Evelyn—
just growing up; and into this family suddenly intrudes a woman—
an unknown woman—who turns out to be the wife of a—gentleman
—paying his addresses to our darling—”

Miss Clementina listened in a sort of maze to this exordium.

“And here,” continued Miss Fulkson, in excited accents, “here
comes a letter—meant to be secret—from one to the other—it is
placed in your hands—now what is your duty, your positive duty,
dearest Clementina?”

The lady's meaning began to dawn.

“Oh no! I could not do such a thing,” said Miss Clementina,
taking the letter.

Miss Fulkson endeavored to withhold it.

“I will look at it, then!” she whispered.

“No, no!”

And Miss Clementina repossessed herself of Harley's letter, which
Miss Fulkson relinquished with a deep sigh.

“Well,” she said, “I at least have done my duty! I can do no
more. Deliver that letter if you choose, Clementina. Trouble will
come of it—mark my words.”

“I hope not; but I must deliver it to the person for whom it is
intended,” said Miss Clementina.

She rose as she spoke, and added:

“You must go up-stairs and take off your things, Clara—to my
room; you will find a fire there. You will spend the day?”

Hooks of steel would not have sufficed to drag Miss Clara Fulkson
away from Blandfield that morning.

“No—thank you—I don't think I will be able—”

“Do stay, Clara! You are quite a comfort in the midst of all this
mystery and excitement.”

Miss Fulkson allowed herself to exhibit signs of relenting.

“I want to talk with you,—where we will not be interrupted.”

“Well, dear Clementina, I never can resist the temptation to stay
when I am with you. I am so little given to visiting or gossiping,
that I am from home very little, and never remain long at other
houses. But here—with you, dear Clementina—”

Miss Fulkson suffered herself to be persuaded; sent her vehicle
home, with orders to the driver to return for her in the evening, and
proceeded up-stairs to take off her wrappings, and “spend the
day”—as she had fully intended to do on leaving home.

Miss Clementina, begging her friend to excuse her, went to deliver
Harley's note to the person for whom it was intended.