"Alas! no!" replied Helen. "Would to Heaven I had, Rosalind! What is it makes you think I have had this great happiness?"
"Because I have just met her,—just seen her with my own eyes driving down the avenue."
"Impossible! Rosalind you must be mistaken. I have been sitting in my own room these two hours, copying a long act of parliament for Sir Gilbert; and if any carriage had been here, I must have seen it."
"No, no, you would not: I observed that the carriage drove direct from the stable-yard, and out into the avenue below the second gate. When I saw the carriage, spite of my astonishment, my first feeling was terror lest I should be seen myself; and accordingly I retreated behind one of the enormous trees, which I am sure hid me effectually, but from whence I had not only a full view of the Cartwright equipage, but of Mrs. Cartwright in it, looking, I am sorry to say, even paler and more ill than usual."
"Is my mother looking ill, Rosalind?" said Helen anxiously, and seeming for the moment to be unmindful of the strange circumstance of her having been at Oakley. "Is she unwell?"
"I grieve to say that I think she is. A scene which took place in poor Henrietta's room only a few moments before she died, and at which Mrs. Cartwright was present, has, I think, shaken her severely. But what can have brought her here, Helen, unless it were her wish to see you?—And yet she has been, and is gone, without your hearing of it."
"It is indeed most strange," replied Helen, ringing the bell of the drawing-room, into which they had entered. "Lady Harrington is, I know, in her closet,—perhaps my mother has seen her."
"Has my mother been here, Thomas?" inquired Helen of the old servant who answered the bell.
"Oh, dear, no, Miss Mowbray: that was noways likely."
"Likely or not, Thomas, I assure you she has been here," said Miss Torrington; "for I myself met her coming away."