“That she would not, my dear; and I say it’s a shame to say it, but my husband will have it that he has carried her off for the sake of her money. And as I said to my husband, ‘You thought the same about poor Claud, when the darling boy was as innocent as a dove.’ There, I’m right, I’m sure I’m right. She’s lying asleep at the bottom of the lake.”
Jenny’s face contracted with horror, and her visitor caught her in her arms again.
“There, there, don’t look like that, my dear. She’s nothing to you, and I’m a very silly old woman, and I dare say I’m wrong. I came here to be like a good neighbour, and try and comfort you, and I’m only making you worse. That’s just like me, my dear. But now look here. You mustn’t go about with that white face. You want change, and you shall come over to the Manor and stay for a month. It will do you good.”
“No,” said Jenny, quietly. “I can not come, thank you, Mrs Wilton. My brother would not permit it.”
“But he must, for your sake. Oh, these men, these men!”
“It is impossible,” said Jenny, holding out her hand, “for we are going away.”
“Going away! Well, I am sorry. Ah, me! It’s a sad world, and maybe I shall be gone away, too, before long. But you might come for a week. Why not to-morrow?”
Jenny shook her head, and the visitor parted from her so affectionately that no further opposition was made to the basket’s contents.