“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why should Blanche leave you in this manner? It’s such a mad thing to do. What can the girl have been thinking of? It ruins her prospects. One couldn’t recommend her after such extraordinary behaviour. Maggie tells me she went before any one was up. But why, Pamela? She must have had a reason.”
“I suppose she had,” Pamela agreed. “The only thing I can think of is that she knew I was going to dismiss her and simply forestalled me.”
Mrs Carruthers looked perplexed.
“I thought you were entirely satisfied with her,” she remarked.
“No,” Pamela returned. “In many respects she was admirable. But I never cared much for her; and as you know I found her system in the nursery very trying. She had too much authority. I meant to try a nurse again.”
“Well, I am astonished,” Mrs Carruthers exclaimed. “I believed she was a perfect treasure. But the fact of your intention to dismiss her is no warrant for her extraordinary behaviour. To run away like that! My dear Pamela, it’s absurd. What does Mr Arnott think about it?”
At this sudden and wholly unforeseen question Pamela’s composure forsook her. She flushed red, and then went so very pale that Mrs Carruthers, watching her, could not fail to detect her agitation. She did not know what to make of these signs of distress. Had Pamela been guilty of making away with the governess she could not have appeared more conscience-stricken. Her eyes refused to meet Mrs Carruthers’ steady gaze: they shifted uneasily and sought the gravel of the path.
“I don’t know,” she stammered.
The answer, as much as her manner of uttering it, sounded disingenuous even in her own ears. She made an effort to collect her scattered wits, conscious that she was conveying a suggestion to her friend’s mind of the very suspicions she was anxious to avert.
“Herbert had left before we knew about Blanche,” she explained with nervous haste. “He went away this morning immediately after breakfast. You see,” she looked at Mrs Carruthers quickly, with wide apprehensive eyes which appealed mutely for sympathy, “that makes it so much more difficult for me,—his not being here to advise me. Oh! Connie, I am so bothered. I don’t know how to act.”