'"Something! Yes, indeed!" echoed Pauline. "Do you know there is a strange man closeted in the little north parlour with mamma and Dr. Power? The door was ajar when I passed, and I saw him—a little, dark man, with a soldier-like bearing, I thought; but I had not time to see much, for he scowled at me quite savagely, and shut the door in a moment."
'There was a chorus of exclamations at this adventure of Pauline's. A little, dark man!—a stranger!—and soldier-like in bearing!—who shut the door with a ferocious scowl! This was a charming addition to our mystery; and Pauline was questioned and cross-questioned to a degree that no one else could have borne without losing patience. But she only laughed and shook her head, declaring that she had told us all she knew, and (she feared) a great deal more than she ought.
'"Oh! mamma was right," she said, throwing herself lazily on to the turf seat that went round the lime tree. "She knows that a secret is as sure to come out, if I have the keeping of it, as sand out of a sieve. But, oh! you are all so terribly curious, and I am such a 'bavarde.' Ah! well, never mind. We shall hear all about it in time, doubtless. Oh Frances, what a rent in your ruffle! What will Mrs. Fortescue say if she finds it out?"
'Pauline's words made me colour, and look down rather disconsolately at the ruffle in question, for I knew well enough what Mrs. Fortescue would say. Her commands, as we were leaving the schoolroom, had been, that Lady Desmond should not appear before her eyes again until that ruffle was mended; and Mrs. Fortescue's commands were not to be lightly treated. We stood in far more awe of her than of Madame St. Aubert herself; and I had not the least doubt that, if the dinner-bell rang before her orders were obeyed, I should be condemned to solitary banishment in the schoolroom while the other girls were enjoying their walk in the cool of the evening.
'"Poor child! How woeful she looks!" cried Bessie Davenant compassionately. "Never mind, Frances, I'll come and help you. There is time before dinner, if we run in at once, trusting to good luck not to meet Mrs. Fortescue by the way;" and Bessie, whose course of action was always prompt and decided, on account of her never waiting to think about anything, caught my hand, and we sped together across the lawn, and along the sunny terrace walk into the house, never pausing till we sank panting upon a bench in the schoolroom. We had sat there for a moment in silence, to recover our breath, when the sound of Mrs. Fortescue's voice made me give a guilty start, and glance at Bessie in alarm. The door was ajar of a little ante-room which opened into the schoolroom ("Madame's own closet," we used to call it), and Madame St. Aubert was there now. We could hear her voice, though we could not catch the words; but Mrs. Fortescue's was not pitched in so low a key.
'"The Duke of Monmouth!" we heard her exclaim, "will set foot, do you say, on English ground in two days? Then God save him, poor youth, and help him to his own rightful kingdom. But what a fearful struggle..."
'Bessie and I had been staring at one another for the last few moments in motionless surprise; but here, by mutual consent, we rose, and were about to slip quietly back to the door by which we had entered, when another voice cut short Mrs. Fortescue's speech, and brought us for an instant to a sudden standstill. This was a man's voice, and a very harsh and unrefined one, too, which certainly belonged to none of the few men whom Madame St. Aubert was wont to admit to her house.
'"Pardon, Madame," it said rather gruffly, "but I must pray you to be somewhat less loud. Remember whose life and fortune is at stake. This is no child's play, Madame, let me tell you!"
'At this juncture I pulled Bessie's dress, and, while the colour rushed into her face, she turned, and we stole softly from the room. I do not think either of us breathed freely till we found ourselves again in the garden, and safe from view in a shady, winding path, through a tangled confusion of shrubs and trees, which went by the name of "The Wilderness." As for myself, I had scarcely yet realized what a secret it was that we two had found out,—what those words meant that had come to our ears during the few moments when, astonished and taken aback, we paused and listened to what we had no right to hear. But their significance was clear enough to Bessie, for she had lived five years longer in the world than I had, and was a little more learned in the news of the day.
'"Oh Frances!" she exclaimed, looking half frightened, half triumphant, "what have we done! What would Madame say if she knew what we have heard? But oh! to think that the mystery should prove to be this. What glorious news! Oh, if I were only a man, to be with him! Alack! alack!" and Bessie leaned against an apple tree, and vented her excitement in a tremendous sigh.