"And your mistress was shut up, I hear, in the dining-room all the
time with little George."
"Oh yes," said Prance, "and the servants were shut up downstairs.
Nobody could have gone near the room. If that door was fastened, why,
the bolt must have slipped as well as the latch when the child closed
it," added Prance. "The coroner and jury thought so."
Mrs. Darling sighed in very perplexity. She could not get over
Honour's positive and solemn assertion; but it seemed equally
impossible to believe any one had been near the door to bolt it. This
last suggestion, that the bolt had slipped, was a welcome one, and
Mrs. Darling would have given half her remaining lifetime to have been
able fully to believe in it.
There went forth another announcement in the local papers, Mrs.
Darling wording it.
"Died, on St. Martin's Eve, at Alnwick Hall, on his fifth birthday,
Benjamin Carleton St. John, eldest son and heir of the late George
Carleton St. John, Esquire."
CHAPTER XVII.
HONOUR'S RAVINGS.
It needed not many days for Honour Tritton to be in a fever,
accompanied by delirium, the symptoms of which had been plainly
showing themselves. Mr. Pym pronounced it a malady of the brain,
brought on by grief, horror, and remorse. It would prolong her stay at
the Hall, for she could not be removed; otherwise Mrs. St. John had
given her notice to quit it as soon as the funeral was over. Mrs. St.
John had taken a shuddering dislike to her. The word is used
advisedly. Once or twice, when she met Honour in the corridors, she
was seized with a fit of shuddering that affected her whole frame.
Freely she avowed that she could not bear the sight of the girl; but
for her, she said, Benja would be still living. But when the girl was
taken ill they could not turn her out; and Honour lay in bed, in the
room that had been hers and Benja's. The pretty rosewood cot, shorn
for ever of its occupant, was yet in the corner. At first she was not
dangerously ill; hot and feverish, and a little excited at times; but
not in danger. It was the day before the funeral that she took to her
bed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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