Jenny saw she really was in absolute fear of pursuit; but hardly yet understood the nervous haste to turn into a not very inviting side-path, veiled by the trees, whose wet leaves were falling.
“Do you mind the damp?” asked the girl, anxiously.
“No, not at all; but—”
“You don’t know what it is never to feel free, but be like a French girl, always watched—at least whenever I am with any one I care to speak to.”
“Are you quite sure it is not imagination?”
“O, Joanna, don’t be like all the rest, blinded by her! You knew her always!”
“Only from below. I am four years younger; you know dear Emily was my contemporary.”
“Dear Emily! I miss her more now than even at Rockpier. But you, who were her friend, and knew Camilla of old, I know you can help me as no one else can.”
Jenny returned a caress; and Eleonora spoke on. “You know I was only eight years old when Camilla married, and I had scarcely seen her till she came to us at Rockpier, on Lord Tyrrell’s death, and then she was most delightful. I thought her like mother and sister both in one, even more tender than dear Emily. How could I have thought so for a moment? But she enchanted everybody. Clergy, ladies, and all came under the spell; and I can’t get advice from any of them—even from Miss Coles—you remember her?”
“Your governess? How nice she was!”