"Puir Ailsie! puir, bonnie lassie!" howled the dame, rocking her body to and fro.
"Who did it?" gasped Claudia, under her breath.
"Ah! that's what we canna come at; naebody kens."
"I cannot rest here any longer. Ring the bell, Mrs. Murdock, and hand me my dressing gown. I must get up and go downstairs. Good Heavens! a poor, innocent girl murdered in this house, and her murderer allowed to escape!" exclaimed Claudia, throwing the bed- clothes off her and rising in irrepressible excitement.
"Ah, me leddy, I fear, I greatly fear, she was no that innocent as your leddyship thinks, puir bairn! Nae that I would say onything about it, only it's weel kenned noo. Puir Ailsie! she lost her innocence before she lost her life, me leddy. And I greatly misdoubt, he that reft her of the ane reft her of the ither!" sobbed the dame, as she assisted Claudia to put on her crimson silk dressing gown.
"Now give me a shawl; I must go below."
"Nay, nay, me leddy, dinna gang! It's awfu' wark doon there. They've brought her in, and laid her on the ha' table, and a' the constables and laborers are there, forbye the servants. It's nae place for you, me leddy. Your leddyship could na stand it."
"Anyone who has stood six weeks of the ordinary life in this house can stand anything else under the sun!" exclaimed Claudia, wrapping herself in the large India shawl that was handed her, and hurrying downstairs.
She was met by old Katie, who was on her way to answer the bell that had been rung for her, and who, as soon as she saw her mistress, raised both her hands in deprecation, and in her terror began to speak as if Lady Vincent were still a child and she was still her nurse and keeper:
"Now, Miss Claudia, honey, you jes' go right straight back ag'in! Dis aint no place for sich as you, chile. You mustn't go down dar and look at dat gashly objeck, honey. 'Cause no tellin' what de quoncequinces mightn't be. Now mind what your ole Aunt Katie say to you, honey, and turn back like a good chile."