Meanwhile Clarice, in deep mourning, sat in the drawing-room waiting for the arrival of the solicitor, and for the return of the funeral party. Ackworth had not come over to attend, as stern duty compelled him to go to Southampton with a draft of men for India. But he promised to return as soon as he was able. Clarice anxiously expected him, as she had much to say about the property and about their marriage. Especially about the latter, as, since the death of Horran, Dr. Jerce had too openly displayed his interest in the girl. It was, therefore, necessary to put an end to the doctor's hopes by announcing her engagement to Captain Ackworth.
While Clarice thought of these things, Mrs. Rebson, at her elbow, kept up a cheerful conversation about the truths enshrined in the pages of The Domestic Prophet. "One thing's come true, Miss," she said, briskly; "I only hope the other won't."
"What other?" asked Miss Baird, listlessly.
"Why, the disgrace, Miss. We had the death to an elderly man, who should have been beware of the midnight hour--death by a knife, too."
"Only it was an assegai," retorted Clarice, scornfully; "your prophet made a mistake in the weapon."
"The Domestic Prophet doesn't condescend to tell everything," said Mrs. Rebson, much offended, "but you can't say but what the murder hasn't taken place."
"No," sighed the girl, "poor Uncle Henry."
"We've had death and sorrow," went on the housekeeper, relentlessly, "and disgrace has still to come."
"Disgrace! What nonsense."
"So you said before, Miss. Don't scoff, when you know what's happened. Disgrace must come, as The Domestic Prophet plainly says." She turned over a few pages, and cleared her throat to read:--"If a crime of any nature has been committed by any person during the months of December, January, or February, that person, if hanged, will assuredly bring disgrace on those nearest and dearest to them. Let degenerates beware, says the seer."