England -- Fiction; France -- Fiction; Governesses -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction
"Excited again, Ethel!" observed Lady Chandos, the perfect calmness of
her tone presenting a curious contrast. "When will you learn to take
trifles quietly and rationally? Who has fallen? The white kitten?"
Mrs. Chandos did not like the reproach. "There's nothing to blame me
for this time," she said, with a sob of vehemence. "It is Mrs. Freeman.
She is lying there on the floor, looking frightful. I am not sure but
she's dead."
"Take care of her, Harry," said Lady Chandos. "I will see what it is."
"Shall I go?" he asked. "It may be better. You can stay with Ethel."
Lady Chandos only answered by waving him back, as she quitted the room.
Mrs. Chandos trembled excessively, and Mr. Chandos placed her in an
easy-chair.
"Calm yourself, Ethel—as my mother says."
"What nonsense you talk, Harry! As if everybody could have their
feelings under control as she has—as you have! Time was when I was calm
and heedless enough, Heaven knows, but since—since—you know?"
"Yes, yes; be still now. I think you might acquire a little more
self-control if you tried, considering that excitement does you so much
harm."
"It weakens me; it lays me prostrate for three or four days. I don't
know what other harm it does me."
"Is not that enough? Where is Mrs. Freeman?"
"She is in my dining-room. I will tell you what happened. We were at
luncheon—that is, I was, for she sat by the window, and would not take
any: she has complained of illness latterly, as I told you. 'I think
you might eat a bit of this fowl,' I said to her; 'it is very nice.'
Well, she made no answer; so I spoke again. Still she said nothing, and
I got up to look at her, wondering whether she could have dropped
asleep in a minute. I went round the chair, and there she was with a
face drawn in the most frightful manner you can conceive, and the next
moment she had slipped from the chair to the carpet. And you and Lady
Chandos blame me for not retaining my calmness."
"Will you take anything?" he inquired, pointing to the luncheon-tray;
and it struck me that he wished to get the scene she had described out
of her memory.
"No, thank you. The sight of Mrs. Freeman has taken my appetite away.
Suppose you come and see her for yourself: I don't mind going with
you."
Mrs. Chandos put her arm within his, and they departed. Hill ran
upstairs; two or three of the maids followed her. Hickens looked after
them in curiosity, and then came back to his luncheon-table. Not to be
in the way of anybody, I went up to my room.
For some hours I saw none of them. There was bustle in the house. Lady
Chandos's voice I heard now and then, and once I caught a glimpse of
Mr. Chandos in the grounds. Getting tired of my confinement, I looked
out, and asked a maid-servant, who was passing in the corridor, what
had been the matter.
"It was a sort of fit, Miss, but she's better now," was Harriet's
reply. "The doctor says she must be still, and have rest for some time
to come, and she is going away this evening."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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