"To be sure. More than one. I lived as companion with an old lady, who so valued me that she left me a handsome legacy in her will. I lived two years with the Countess of Mount Severn."
"With the Countess of Mount Severn!" echoed Lady Isabel, surprised into the remark. "Why, she--she--was related to Mr. Carlyle's wife. At least Lord Mount Severn was."
"Of course; everybody knows that. I was living there at the time the business happened. Didn't the countess pull Lady Isabel to pieces! She and Miss Levison used to sit, cant, cant all day over it. Oh, I assure you I know all about it, just as much as Joyce did. Have you got that headache, that you are leaning on your hand?"
"Headache and heartache both," she might have answered.
Miss Afy resumed.
"So, after the flattering compliment West Lynne had paid to me, you may judge I was in no hurry to go back to it, Madame Vine. And if I had not found that Mrs. Latimer's promised to be an excellent place, I should have left it, rather than be marshaled there. But I have lived it down; I should like to hear any of them fibbing against me now. Do you know that blessed Miss Corny?"
"I have seen her."
"She shakes her head and makes eyes at me still. But so she would at an angel; a cross-grained old cockatoo!"
"Is she still at East Lynne?"
"Not she, indeed. There would be drawn battles between her and Mrs. Carlyle, if she were."
A dart, as of an ice-bolt, seemed to arrest the blood in Lady Isabel's veins.
"Mrs. Carlyle," she faltered. "Who is Mrs. Carlyle?"
"Mr. Carlyle's wife--who should she be?"
The rushing blood leaped on now fast and fiery.
"I did not know he had married again."
"He has been married now--oh, getting on for fifteen months; a twelvemonth last June. I went to the church to see them married.
Wasn't there a cram! She looked beautiful that day."
Lady Isabel laid her hand upon her breast. But for that delectable "loose jacket," Afy might have detected her bosom rise and fall. She steadied her voice sufficiently to speak.
"Did he marry Barbara Hare?"
"You may take your oath of that," said Afy. "If folks tell true, there was love scenes between them before he ever thought of Lady Isabel. I had that from Wilson, and she ought to know, for she lived at the Hares'. Another thing is said--only you must just believe one word of West Lynne talk, and disbelieve ten--that if Lady Isabel had not died, Mr. Carlyle never would have married again; he had scruples. Half a dozen were given him by report; Louisa Dobede for one, and Mary Pinner for another. Such nonsense! Folks might have made sure it would be Barbara Hare. There's a baby now."
"Is there?" was the faint answer.
"A beautiful boy three or four months old. Mrs. Carlyle is not a little proud of him. She worships her husband."
"Is she kind to the first children?"
"For all I know. I don't think she has much to do with them. Archibald is in the nursery, and the other two are mostly with the governess."
"I wonder," cried the governess, "how the tidings of Lady Isabel's death were received at East Lynne?"
"I don't know anything about that. They held it as a jubilee, I should say, and set all the bells in town to ring, and feasted the men upon legs of mutton and onion sauce afterward. I should, I know. A brute animal, deaf and dumb, such as a cow or a goose, clings to its offspring, but /she/ abandoned hers. Are you going in Madame Vine?"
"I must go in now. Good evening to you."
She had sat till she could sit no longer; her very heartstrings were wrung, and she might not rise up in defence of herself. Defence? Did she not deserve more, ten thousand times more reproach than had met her ears now? This girl did not say of her half what the world must say.
"There is a governess?"
"Nearly the first thing that Mr. Carlyle did, after his wife's moonlight flitting, was to seek a governess, and she has been there ever since. She is going to leave now; to be married, Joyce told me."
"Are you much at East Lynne?"
Afy shook her head. "I am not going much, I can tell you, where I am looked down upon. Mrs. Carlyle does not favor me. She knew that her brother Richard would have given his hand to marry me, and she resents it. Not such a great catch, I'm sure, that **** Hare, even if he had gone on right," continued Afy, somewhat after the example of the fox, looking at the unattainable grapes. "He had no brains to speak of; and what he had were the color of a peacock's tail--green."
To bed at the usual time, but not to sleep. What she had heard only increased her vain, insensate longing. A stepmother at East Lynne, and one of her children gliding on to death! Oh! To be with them! To see them once again! To purchase that boon, she would willingly forfeit all the rest of her existence.
Her frame was fevered; the bed was fevered; and she arose and paced the room. This state of mind would inevitably bring on bodily illness, possibly an attack of the brain. She dreaded that; for there was no telling what she might reveal in her delirium. Her temples were throbbing, her heart was beating, and she once more threw herself upon the bed, and pressed the pillow down upon her forehead. There is no doubt that the news of Mr. Carlyle's marriage helped greatly the excitement. She did not pray to die, but she did wish that death might come to her.
What would have been the ending, it is impossible to say, but a strange turn in affairs came; one of those wonderful coincidences sometimes, but not often to be met with. Mrs. Crosby appeared in Madame Vine's room after breakfast, and gave her an account of Helena's projected marriage. She then apologized, the real object of her visit, for dispensing so summarily with madame's services, but had reason to hope that she could introduce her to another situation.
Would madame have any objection to take one in England? Madame was upon the point of replying that she should not choose to enter one in England, when Mrs. Crosby stopped her, saying that she would call in Mrs. Latimer, who could tell her about it better than she could.
