She had dropped her cries of anguish to speak with the irritability of the afflicted.
“I am your woman Lydia’s niece.”
Pamela went down on her knees before the little distracted lady, and spoke very gently and deliberately as to a child; and the while she spoke Kitty’s eyes widened on her smiling countenance as if they beheld an angel’s.
“Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs has not committed suicide, my Lady Kilcroney, nor will he do so, because I took the pistol out of his grasp. Yes, my Lady, I, with these hands. And I gave him the thirteen pounds you sent me to pay Mrs. Tabbishaw’s bill. Thirteen pounds! And he went away to gamble with them at the ‘Six Bells,’ and he was quite sure that he was going to win all his money back from Lord Sanquhar with the help of them, and I am quite sure, too, for him. Says he ‘My luck is turned.’ And——”
She was interrupted.
“And that’s what happened to my Lady’s money. Oh, you deceitful wretch! Oh, you vile young thief!”
Lydia forgot everything but her indignation. Her gimlet tones might have disturbed the dead, but neither my Lady nor Pamela paid the smallest heed to her, for Kitty Kilcroney had flung herself upon the young milliner’s neck, and, shedding tears of joy, called her the most incomparable girl, the noblest creature, the nearest thing to a seraph that had ever walked a world of woe.
They were both as keen of wit one as the other, and it was wonderful how, with scarce a question and answer, the whole story came out.
“You turned into the park, you did not know why? Ah, but I know why! ’Twas Providence, child. A most merciful act of Providence! And you saw his desperate face? Oh, I can scarce bear it! You wrenched the pistol from his very hand? Oh, if I live to be a hundred, how can I be grateful enough to Heaven and to you? Rash and unfortunate young man! You gave him thirteen pounds? He only asked me for ten. Oh, where did you say he had gone to? I must send after him. Lydia, bid the carriage round again. I must go myself. And you shall go with me, child. Oh, you shall indeed!”
“Since her Ladyship’s in such a fine mood of generosity,” cried Lydia, who occasionally presumed on fourteen years’ service, “perhaps she’ll pay Mrs. Tabbishaw’s bill over again? Or else my niece will be getting into trouble, and she needn’t look to me to get her out of it, lying to my very face!”