“So my Lady has found you out, you artful hussy,” returned Mrs. Phoebe. “I have long guessed at your tricks! I knew it was no blackamoor that was stealing into the great house.”
“I do not know what you mean.”
“Oh! it is of no use to try your feigned artlessness on us. I wonder at your assurance, after playing false with uncle and nephew both at once.”
“If you would but hear me!”
“I have heard enough of you already. I wonder you dare show your face at a respectable house. Away with you, if you would not have me send the constable after you!”
The threat renewed Aurelia’s terror, and again she fled, but this time she fell into a path better known to her, that leading to Sedhurst, and ultimately to Brentford.
The recollection of Dame Wheatfield’s genial good nature inspired her with another hope, and she made her way towards the farm. The church bells were ringing, and she saw the farmer and his children going towards the church, but not the mistress, and she might therefore hope to find her at home and alone. As she approached, a great dog began a formidable barking, and his voice brought out the good woman in person. “Down, Bouncer! A won’t hurt’ee, my lass. What d’ye lack that you bain’t at church?”
“May I speak to you, Mrs. Wheatfield?”
“My stars, if it bain’t young Miss—Madam, I mean! Nothing ain’t wrong with the child?”
“O no, she is quite well, but—”