"Yes, Cicely," said Celia, half-rising. "She will tell me to-morrow."
The troubled look in old Cicely's face deepened. But she only said, as she took up the light, "Go to sleep, dear hearts!"
"I ask your pardon, Madam!" said Cicely, courtesying low, as Madam Passmore opened her bedroom-door in answer to her tap. "But could I have a minute's speech with you, if you please?"
"Come in, Cicely, and sit down. Is anything the matter?"
"Well, Madam," said Cicely, glancing round the room, as if to make quite sure there were no listeners, "I'm afeared there's somewhat up about Mrs. Celia. This afternoon, as I was a-going down the lane to Mally Rihll's, with the cordial water and jelly you was pleased to send for sick Robin, there was a fellow met me, that I didn't half like the looks of. I should know him again, for he stopped me, and began to talk;—asked the way to Moreton (and I doubt if he really wanted to go, for he took the t'other turning when he come to it), and asked whose the Park was, and if Master was at home; and was going on to what family he had, and such like impudent questions. 'If you want to know all that,' says I, 'you'd better go up and ring the bell, and ask Squire his own self,' I says. Well, he didn't ask me no more questions after that, but went shuffling on his way, and took the wrong turning. But when I got to Mally's, and while we sat a bit, she tells me that my gentleman had been there asking for a drink of water, and a lot more impertinence. And asked her right out if there warn't a young lady at the Park of the name of Celia, and how old she were, and when her birthday were, and all on like that. And Mally—(you know, Madam, she's but a simple soul)—I could hear from her story, she up and told him everything he asked, and maybe more than he asked, for aught I know. And what does he do but (seeing, no doubt, what a simple soul she was) outs with a table-book, and actually sets down in black and white what she was a-telling of him. 'The impudent rascal!' say I to Mally, when I hears that: 'and why couldn't you have given it him hot and strong, as I did?' I says. And she says he looked so like a gentleman, for all his shabby coat, with nigh a quarter of a yard of lace pulled off the bottom, and all a-flapping about in the wind, as is both full and cold to-day, as she hadn't the heart to say nothing impertinent, says she. But 'Impertinent!' says I; 'I think, after all the impertinence he'd given you, you might have give him a dose without hurting of him much,' says I. So I thought I'd come and tell you, Madam, at once."
"You have done right to tell me, Cicely," said her mistress. "I think—I am afraid—there will be some inquiry for the dear child, before long."
"Well, Madam, and that's what I'm afeared on, too," said Cicely. "And to see Mrs. Celia sitting there so innocent like!"
"She must know, Cicely—she must know soon."
"If I was you, Madam, I'd tell her now," said Cicely,—"asking your pardon for being so bold as to say it to you."
"Yes, Cicely, so I shall," replied Madam Passmore, in a very despondent tone.