“Her husband! Oh no, I never heard any thing about him. I thought you knew I found her at the photographer’s?”
“Met her as a sitter?”
“Oh dear, no! I thought you understood. It was she that was doing my picture. She finishes up all his miniature photographs.”
“My dear Elvira, do you really mean that my poor Janet is supporting herself in that way?”
“Yes, indeed I do; that was why I made sure she would have come home with me. I was so dreadfully disappointed when I found only her note.”
“And are you sure you have quite lost it?”
“Yes, I turned out every corner of my bag this morning to look for it. I am so sorry, but I was so ill and so wretched, that I could not take care of anything. I just wonder how I lived through the voyage, all alone.”
“Was there no message? Nothing for me.”
“Yes, I have recollected it now, or some of it. She said she durst not go home, or ask anything of you, after the way she had offended. Oh! I wonder how she could send me, for I know I was worse.”
“But what did she say?” said Caroline, too anxious to listen to Elvira’s own confessions. “Was there nothing for me?”