A Fluttered Dovecote by George Manville Fenn
you?"
I did not know. While, being naturally nervous, I was afraid perhaps Imight, if put to the test; but I did not say so.
"What could have made that horrible crashing noise?" said Clara at last;"do you think it was the policeman, dear?"
"Perhaps it was," I said; "but I know poor Achille went into thecistern. I pushed him in; and I'm afraid he must have been drowned, forI'm not sure that I heard him crawl out. Oh, dear! oh, dear!" I saidat last, "what a passion is this love! I feel so old, and worn, andtroubled I could die."
"It would be ruin to the poor Signor to be found out," murmured Clara--thinking more of her tiresome, old, brown Italian than of poor Achille."Oh me! I know it was all my fault; but then how odd that the policemanshould have had a meeting too! Or was he watching? Poor Giulio! wouldthat I had never let him love me. I declared that I did not like him abit to-night when we were together, and I had quite made up my mindnever to meet him any more without he would talk of something else thanbeautiful Italy. Bother beautiful Italy! But now I half think I lovehim so dearly that I would dare anything for him. That I would."
Poor girl! she grew so hysterical again, that I quite grieved for her,and told her so; and then, poor thing, she crept up close to me; andreally it did seem so noble of her to take all the blame and troubleupon herself, while she was so considerate over it, that I could nothelp loving her very, very, very much for it all. But at last we bothdropped off soundly asleep, just as the birds were beginning to twitterin the garden; and, feeling very dull and low-spirited, I was halfwishing that I was a little bird myself, to sit and sing the day long,free from any trouble; no lessons to learn, no exercises to puzzle one'sbrain, no cross lady principal or teachers, no mamma to send me to befinished. And it was just as I was half feeling that I could soar awayinto the blue arch of heaven, that I went into the deep sleep wherein Iwas tortured by seeing those eyes again--always those eyes--peering atme; but this time out of the deep black water of the cistern. By that Iknew that I had drowned poor Achille, and that was to be my punishment--always to sit, unable to tear myself away, and be gazed at by thosedreadful eyes from out of the deep, black water of the tank.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
MEMORY THE TWELFTH--THAN NEXT MORNING.
I have often awoke of a morning with the sensation of a heavy,pressing-down weight upon my mental faculties; and so it was after thedreadful catastrophe narrated in the last chapter. I opened my eyes,feeling--no, let me be truthful, I did not wake, for Patty Smith broughtme to my senses by tapping my head with her nasty penetratinghair-brush--feeling, as I said before, feeling that the dull pressureupon me was caused by the dread truth that poor Achille really wasdrowned; while it was the Signor whom I had heard escaping. And sostrong was the impression, and so nervous and so low did I feel with theadventures of the past night, that I turned quite miserable, and couldnot keep from crying.
The morning was enough to give anybody the horrors, for it rainedheavily; and there were the poor birds, soaking wet, and with theirfeathers sticking close to their sides, hopping about upon the lawn,looking for worms. All over the window-panes, and hanging to thewoodwork, were great tears, as if the clouds shared my trouble andsorrow; while all the flowers looked drooping and dirty, and splashedand miserable.
Then I began to think about Achille, and his coming to give his lessonthat morning; and then about his being in the cistern, with thosewonderful eyes looking out at me; when, there again, if there was notthat tiresome old Tennyson's poem getting into my poor, weary head, and,do what I would, I could not keep it out. There it was--buzz, buzz,buzz--"Dreary--and weary--and will not come, she said;" till at last Ibegan to feel as if I was the real Mariana in the Moated Grange.
To make me worse, too, there was that poor Clara--pale-faced, red-eyed,and desolate-looking--sitting there dressed, and resting her hot headupon her hand as she gazed out of the window; and though I wished tocomfort her, I felt to want the comfort more myself. At last I couldbear it no longer, and, in place of weeping gently, I was so nervous,and low, and upset with the night's troubles, that I sat down and had aregular good cry, and all the while with that great, stupid, fat, gawkygoose of a Patty sitting and staring at me, with her head all on oneside, as she was brushing out half of her hair, which she had notfinished in all the time I had taken to dress.
"Don't, Patty!" I half shrieked, at last--she was so tiresome.
"Well, I ain't," said Patty.
"But please don't, then!" I exclaimed, angrily.
"Don't what?" said the great, silly thing.
"Don't stare so, and look so big and glumpy!" I exclaimed; for I feltas if I could have knocked off her tiresome head, only it was sohorribly big; and I don't care what anybody says, there never wereanywhere before such a tempting pair of cheeks to slap as Patty's--theyalways looked so round, and red, and soft, and pluffy.
"You ain't well," said the nasty, aggravating thing, in her silly, slowway. "Take one of my Seidlitz powders."
"Ugh!" I shuddered at the very name of them. Just as if one of thenasty, prickly-water, nose-tickling things was going to do me any goodat such a time as this.
It really was enough to make one hit her. I never did take a Seidlitzpowder but once, and then it was just after reading "Undine" with theFraulein, and my head was all full of water-nymphs, and gods, and "TheMummelsee and the Water Maidens," and all sorts. And when I shut myeyes, and drank the fizzing-up thing, it all seemed to tickle my noseand lips; and I declare if I did not half fancy I was drinking thewaters of the sparkling Rhine, and one of the water-gods had risen tokiss me, and that was his nasty prickly moustache I had felt. But toreturn to that dreadful morning when Patty wanted me to take one of herSeidlitz powders.
"Mix 'em in two glasses is best," she went on, without taking any noticeof my look of disgust--"the white paper in one, and the blue paper inthe other, and then drink off the blue first, and wait while you counttwenty, and then drink off the white one--slushions they call 'em. Itdoes make you feel so droll, and does your head ever so much good. Dohave one, dear!"
I know that I must have slapped her--nothing could have prevented it--ifjust then the door had not been unlocked, and that horrible Miss Furnesscame in.
"When you are ready, Miss Smith, you will descend with Miss Bozerne--Iwill wait for you," said the screwy old thing; but she took not theslightest notice of poor Clara, who sat there by the window, with herforehead all wrinkled up, and looking at least ten years older. It wasof no good for one's heart to bleed for her, not a bit, with MissFurness, who had undertaken to act the part of gaoler, there; so I gavethe poor, suffering darling one last, meaning look, which was of no use,for it was wasted through the poor thing not looking up; and then Ifollowed Miss Furness out of the room, side by side with Patty Smith,whose saucer eyes grew quite cheese-platish as she saw the door lockedto keep poor Clara in; and then the tiresome thing kept bothering me inwhispers to know what was the matter, for she was quite afraid of MissFurness.
However, I answered nothing, and went into the miserable, dreary,damp-looking classroom with an aching heart, and waited till thebreakfast bell rang. For there was a bell rung for everything, whenthere was not the slightest necessity for such nonsense, only it allaided to make the Cedars imposing, and advertised it to the countryround. But when I went into the hall, to cross it to reach thebreakfast-room, there were a couple of boxes and a bundle at the foot ofthe back stairs, and the tall page getting himself into a tangle withsome cord as he pretended to be tying them up.
Just then the drawing-room door opened, and I heard Mrs Blunt say--
"And don't apply to me for a character, whatever you do;" whilst, veryred-eyed and weeping, out came Sarah Ann, the housemaid.
"Once more," said Mrs Blunt, "do you mean to tell me who it was that Idistinctly saw, with my very own eyes, standing upon the leads talkingto you?"
But Ann only gave a sob and a gulp, and I knew then that they did notknow who had come to see her; whilst I felt
perfectly certain that itwas _the_ policeman, and, besides, the Signor and Achille must have seenwhat he was.
I was standing close to Miss Furness, who, as soon as she saw Ann, beganto bridle up with virtuous indignation; and then set to and hunted thegirls into the breakfast-room.
"Is Ann going away?" said Patty Smith, in her dawdly, sleepy way. "Ilike Ann. What's she going away for, Miss Furness, please?"
"Hush!" exclaimed Miss Furness, in a horrified way. "Don't ask suchquestions. She is a very wicked and hardened girl, and Mrs Fortesquieude Blount has dismissed her, lest she should contaminate either of theother servants."
"I'll tell you all about it, presently," whispered Celia Blang; but notin
I did not know. While, being naturally nervous, I was afraid perhaps Imight, if put to the test; but I did not say so.
"What could have made that horrible crashing noise?" said Clara at last;"do you think it was the policeman, dear?"
"Perhaps it was," I said; "but I know poor Achille went into thecistern. I pushed him in; and I'm afraid he must have been drowned, forI'm not sure that I heard him crawl out. Oh, dear! oh, dear!" I saidat last, "what a passion is this love! I feel so old, and worn, andtroubled I could die."
"It would be ruin to the poor Signor to be found out," murmured Clara--thinking more of her tiresome, old, brown Italian than of poor Achille."Oh me! I know it was all my fault; but then how odd that the policemanshould have had a meeting too! Or was he watching? Poor Giulio! wouldthat I had never let him love me. I declared that I did not like him abit to-night when we were together, and I had quite made up my mindnever to meet him any more without he would talk of something else thanbeautiful Italy. Bother beautiful Italy! But now I half think I lovehim so dearly that I would dare anything for him. That I would."
Poor girl! she grew so hysterical again, that I quite grieved for her,and told her so; and then, poor thing, she crept up close to me; andreally it did seem so noble of her to take all the blame and troubleupon herself, while she was so considerate over it, that I could nothelp loving her very, very, very much for it all. But at last we bothdropped off soundly asleep, just as the birds were beginning to twitterin the garden; and, feeling very dull and low-spirited, I was halfwishing that I was a little bird myself, to sit and sing the day long,free from any trouble; no lessons to learn, no exercises to puzzle one'sbrain, no cross lady principal or teachers, no mamma to send me to befinished. And it was just as I was half feeling that I could soar awayinto the blue arch of heaven, that I went into the deep sleep wherein Iwas tortured by seeing those eyes again--always those eyes--peering atme; but this time out of the deep black water of the cistern. By that Iknew that I had drowned poor Achille, and that was to be my punishment--always to sit, unable to tear myself away, and be gazed at by thosedreadful eyes from out of the deep, black water of the tank.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
MEMORY THE TWELFTH--THAN NEXT MORNING.
I have often awoke of a morning with the sensation of a heavy,pressing-down weight upon my mental faculties; and so it was after thedreadful catastrophe narrated in the last chapter. I opened my eyes,feeling--no, let me be truthful, I did not wake, for Patty Smith broughtme to my senses by tapping my head with her nasty penetratinghair-brush--feeling, as I said before, feeling that the dull pressureupon me was caused by the dread truth that poor Achille really wasdrowned; while it was the Signor whom I had heard escaping. And sostrong was the impression, and so nervous and so low did I feel with theadventures of the past night, that I turned quite miserable, and couldnot keep from crying.
The morning was enough to give anybody the horrors, for it rainedheavily; and there were the poor birds, soaking wet, and with theirfeathers sticking close to their sides, hopping about upon the lawn,looking for worms. All over the window-panes, and hanging to thewoodwork, were great tears, as if the clouds shared my trouble andsorrow; while all the flowers looked drooping and dirty, and splashedand miserable.
Then I began to think about Achille, and his coming to give his lessonthat morning; and then about his being in the cistern, with thosewonderful eyes looking out at me; when, there again, if there was notthat tiresome old Tennyson's poem getting into my poor, weary head, and,do what I would, I could not keep it out. There it was--buzz, buzz,buzz--"Dreary--and weary--and will not come, she said;" till at last Ibegan to feel as if I was the real Mariana in the Moated Grange.
To make me worse, too, there was that poor Clara--pale-faced, red-eyed,and desolate-looking--sitting there dressed, and resting her hot headupon her hand as she gazed out of the window; and though I wished tocomfort her, I felt to want the comfort more myself. At last I couldbear it no longer, and, in place of weeping gently, I was so nervous,and low, and upset with the night's troubles, that I sat down and had aregular good cry, and all the while with that great, stupid, fat, gawkygoose of a Patty sitting and staring at me, with her head all on oneside, as she was brushing out half of her hair, which she had notfinished in all the time I had taken to dress.
"Don't, Patty!" I half shrieked, at last--she was so tiresome.
"Well, I ain't," said Patty.
"But please don't, then!" I exclaimed, angrily.
"Don't what?" said the great, silly thing.
"Don't stare so, and look so big and glumpy!" I exclaimed; for I feltas if I could have knocked off her tiresome head, only it was sohorribly big; and I don't care what anybody says, there never wereanywhere before such a tempting pair of cheeks to slap as Patty's--theyalways looked so round, and red, and soft, and pluffy.
"You ain't well," said the nasty, aggravating thing, in her silly, slowway. "Take one of my Seidlitz powders."
"Ugh!" I shuddered at the very name of them. Just as if one of thenasty, prickly-water, nose-tickling things was going to do me any goodat such a time as this.
It really was enough to make one hit her. I never did take a Seidlitzpowder but once, and then it was just after reading "Undine" with theFraulein, and my head was all full of water-nymphs, and gods, and "TheMummelsee and the Water Maidens," and all sorts. And when I shut myeyes, and drank the fizzing-up thing, it all seemed to tickle my noseand lips; and I declare if I did not half fancy I was drinking thewaters of the sparkling Rhine, and one of the water-gods had risen tokiss me, and that was his nasty prickly moustache I had felt. But toreturn to that dreadful morning when Patty wanted me to take one of herSeidlitz powders.
"Mix 'em in two glasses is best," she went on, without taking any noticeof my look of disgust--"the white paper in one, and the blue paper inthe other, and then drink off the blue first, and wait while you counttwenty, and then drink off the white one--slushions they call 'em. Itdoes make you feel so droll, and does your head ever so much good. Dohave one, dear!"
I know that I must have slapped her--nothing could have prevented it--ifjust then the door had not been unlocked, and that horrible Miss Furnesscame in.
"When you are ready, Miss Smith, you will descend with Miss Bozerne--Iwill wait for you," said the screwy old thing; but she took not theslightest notice of poor Clara, who sat there by the window, with herforehead all wrinkled up, and looking at least ten years older. It wasof no good for one's heart to bleed for her, not a bit, with MissFurness, who had undertaken to act the part of gaoler, there; so I gavethe poor, suffering darling one last, meaning look, which was of no use,for it was wasted through the poor thing not looking up; and then Ifollowed Miss Furness out of the room, side by side with Patty Smith,whose saucer eyes grew quite cheese-platish as she saw the door lockedto keep poor Clara in; and then the tiresome thing kept bothering me inwhispers to know what was the matter, for she was quite afraid of MissFurness.
However, I answered nothing, and went into the miserable, dreary,damp-looking classroom with an aching heart, and waited till thebreakfast bell rang. For there was a bell rung for everything, whenthere was not the slightest necessity for such nonsense, only it allaided to make the Cedars imposing, and advertised it to the countryround. But when I went into the hall, to cross it to reach thebreakfast-room, there were a couple of boxes and a bundle at the foot ofthe back stairs, and the tall page getting himself into a tangle withsome cord as he pretended to be tying them up.
Just then the drawing-room door opened, and I heard Mrs Blunt say--
"And don't apply to me for a character, whatever you do;" whilst, veryred-eyed and weeping, out came Sarah Ann, the housemaid.
"Once more," said Mrs Blunt, "do you mean to tell me who it was that Idistinctly saw, with my very own eyes, standing upon the leads talkingto you?"
But Ann only gave a sob and a gulp, and I knew then that they did notknow who had come to see her; whilst I felt
I was standing close to Miss Furness, who, as soon as she saw Ann, beganto bridle up with virtuous indignation; and then set to and hunted thegirls into the breakfast-room.
"Is Ann going away?" said Patty Smith, in her dawdly, sleepy way. "Ilike Ann. What's she going away for, Miss Furness, please?"
"Hush!" exclaimed Miss Furness, in a horrified way. "Don't ask suchquestions. She is a very wicked and hardened girl, and Mrs Fortesquieude Blount has dismissed her, lest she should contaminate either of theother servants."
"I'll tell you all about it, presently," whispered Celia Blang; but notin