"But I can be getting things in train, Jane. I have been--how many weeks
is it now?"
"Eleven."
"To be sure. It was June when we came; it is now September. I have been
obliged to neglect the boys' lessons, too!"
"They have been very good and quiet; have gone on with their lessons
themselves. If we have trouble in other ways, we have a blessing in our
children, Edgar. They are thoroughly loving and dutiful."
"I don't know the ordinary terms of the neighbourhood," he resumed,
after an interval of silence. "And--I wonder if people will want
references? Jane"--after another silence--"you must put your things on,
and go to Mrs. Dare's."
"To Mrs. Dare's!" she echoed. "Now? I don't know her."
"Never mind about not knowing her," he eagerly continued. "She is my
cousin. You must ask whether they will allow themselves to be referred
to. Peach will allow it also, I am quite certain. Do go, Jane."
Invalids in the weak state of Mr. Halliburton are apt to be restlessly
impatient when the mind is set upon any plan or project. Jane found that
it would vex him much if she declined to go to Mrs. Dare, and she
prepared for the visit. Patience directed her to their residence.
It was situated at the opposite end of Helstonleigh. A handsome house,
inclosed in a high wall, and bearing the imposing title of "Pomeranian
Knoll." Jane entered the iron gates, walked round the carriage drive
that inclosed the lawn, and rang the house bell. A showy footman in
light blue livery, with a bunch of cords on his shoulder, answered it.
"Can I see Mrs. Dare?"
"What name, ma'am?"
Jane gave in one of her visiting cards, wondering whether that was not
too grand a proceeding, considering the errand upon which she had come.
She was shown into an elegant room, to the presence of Mrs. Dare. That
lady was in a costly morning dress, with chains, rings, bracelets, and
other glittering jewellery about her: as she had worn the evening you
saw her beside Mr. Cooper's death-bed.
"Mrs. Halliburton?" she was repeating in doubt, when Jane entered, her
eyes strained on the card. "What Mrs. Halliburton?" she added, not very
civilly, turning her eyes upon Jane.
Jane explained. The wife of Edgar Halliburton, Mrs. Dare's cousin.
Mrs. Dare's presence of mind wholly forsook her. She grew deathly
white; she caught at a chair for support; she was utterly unable to
speak or to conceal her agitation. Jane could only look at her in
amazement, wondering whether she was seized with sudden illness.
A few moments and she recovered herself. She took a seat, motioned Jane
to another, and asked, as she might have asked of any stranger, what her
business might be. Jane explained it, somewhat at length.
Mrs. Dare's surprise was great. She could not or would not understand;
and her face flushed a deep red, and again grew deadly pale. "Edgar
Halliburton come to live in Helstonleigh!" she repeated. "And you say
you are his wife?"
"I am his wife," was the reply of Jane, spoken with quiet dignity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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