“If it’s t’ seame to you, sir, Ah’ll tak’ t’ leady mysen.”
“Pray, are you the young lady’s guardian?”
“Ah’ve as mooch reght to t’ neame as you, sir,” answered Barnabas surlily. And without waiting for further parley, the farmer got up in his seat and drove away.
Freda and her driver made their way back to the Abbey almost in silence. All that he would tell her about the capture of the murderer was that “t’ poor fellow was caught in a field at back o’ t’ house.”
Mrs. Bean was waiting at the lodge-gates for her, and Freda saw by the housekeeper’s white face that she had heard the result of the expedition.
“Oh, Mrs. Bean, it is too horrible; I can’t bear it!” sobbed the girl, throwing her arms round Nell’s neck.
But the housekeeper pushed her off with a “Sh!” and a frightened look round, and Freda saw that John Thurley was standing in the deep shadow under the gateway. With a sudden cry the girl stepped back, and would have run away to Barnabas, whose cart was just moving off, if Thurley had not started forward, led her within the gates with a strong but gentle hand, and closed them behind her. He would not let her go until they had reached the dining-room; then he apologised rather brusquely, and asked her to sit down.
“I can hear what you have to say standing,” she said in a low, breathless voice.
“Why are you so changed to me? Why did you run away from me just now?” asked Thurley, distressed and irritated. “It is by your invitation I am here; you have only to say you are tired of my presence, and late as it is I will go out and try to find some other lodging.”
The instincts of a gentlewoman were too strong in Freda for her not to be shocked at the idea of showing incivility to a guest, however ill he might have requited her hospitality. She overcame the abhorrence she felt at his conduct sufficiently to say: