Suddenly realising that my remarks to the latter were receiving very scant attention, I looked up, and found the girl's black eyes fixed in a basilisk stare upon our unfortunate hostess, whose own eyes were cast down, but who appeared uneasy and troubled by the determined gaze of my guest. At length the poor woman threw down her knife and fork, rose hastily from the dining-table, and made her way eagerly to the sofa at the other end of the room, where she lay down at full length, murmuring: "I can't stand it any longer!"
Carrie Waverly was at length induced to come away to my sitting-room and leave the poor woman in peace, which she did, asserting her complete innocence, and assuring me she "only wanted to see if she could make Mrs Peters look up at her!"
I explained to her that "sensitives" may be as much upset by this sort of thing as another person would be by a blow on the back. She looked incredulous, and then said cheerfully: "Well, if it is as bad as that, don't you think you ought to go and see how she is?"
"Two for yourself and your own curiosity and one for her!" I thought; but I took the hint, and found Mrs Peters still prostrate on the sofa, but full of apologies for her sudden collapse:
"You must have thought me so very rude," etc., etc.
I reassured her on this point, and expressed regret that my visitor should have upset her so much by looking so fixedly at her.
"It was not her fault," said Mrs Peters eagerly. "It was the man standing over her. He had his hands upon her shoulders, and was trying so hard to influence her, and she was resisting it all the time, and the whole conflict of their wills was thrown upon me, and I could not stand it at last—that was why I left the table," she gasped out.
"Could you describe the man at all?"
"Quite clearly," she said. "I shall never forget his face—I saw him so distinctly." She then proceeded to describe in detail the very clear-cut features and bushy eyebrows of Carrie Waverly's father, giving also his colouring, which was very distinctive. I suggested trying to find out what he wanted to say to his daughter, but this distressed Mrs Peters so much that I was sorry to have made the suggestion.
"No! no! dear Miss Bates!—don't ask me to do that—dear Henry never likes my taking messages from strangers—I have promised him that I would never do it without his permission. It upsets me so much, and I feel so weak already."