To regard Ratia as a mature personage robbed the project of romance, and to find herself bound in honour by her inconsiderate rattle was one of the rude shocks which often occur to the indiscriminate of tongue; but the curate had too much on his mind to dwell on what concerned him more remotely, and proceeded, ‘I came to see whether you could help me about poor Miss Murrell. You made no arrangement for her getting home last night?’
‘No!’
‘Ah, you young people! But it is my fault; I should have recollected young heads. Then I am afraid it must have been—’
‘What?’
‘She was seen on the river very late last night with a stranger. He went up to the school with her, remained about a quarter of an hour, and then rowed up the river again. I am afraid it is not the first time she has been seen with him.’
‘But, Mr. Prendergast, she was here till at least ten! She fainted away just as she was to have sung, and we carried her out into the cloister. When she recovered she went away to the housekeeper’s room—’ (a bold assertion, built on Owen’s partially heard reply to Phœbe). ‘I’ll ask the maids.’
‘It is of no use, Cilla; she allows it herself.’
‘And pray,’ cried Lucilla, rallying her sauciness, ‘how do you propose ever to have banns to publish, if young men and maidens are never to meet by water nor by land?’
‘Then you do know something?’
‘No; only that such matters are not commonly blazoned in the commencement.’