The servants said that no one could be more attentive than Sir Murray now was, and that it was quite pleasant to see the alteration. But Jane said nothing, she merely tightened her lips, making no confidant; for once—twice, four different times—she had encountered Sir Murray coming from her mistress’s dressing-room; and once, after such a visit, when she went to give Lady Gernon her daily medicine, the poor girl fainted away upon learning that her duty had been forestalled by Sir Murray himself.
Whatever might have been Jane Barkers suspicions, she felt that this could not go on for ever; and worn out, and sick at heart, she one day put on her bonnet, ordered McCray to act as her escort, and made her way to Merland Hall.
Mrs Norton welcomed her heartily, but almost in dread, not knowing what interpretation might be placed upon the visit, should it come to Sir Murray’s ears. But, to her great astonishment, Jane’s first act was to close the window, and then, crossing the room, she turned the key in the lock; when, coming back close to the astonished occupant of the room, she threw herself down upon her knees, sobbing wildly; and catching hold of Ada’s hand, she kissed it fiercely again and again.
“Is anything wrong?” exclaimed Ada Norton, with a horrified look, for a dreadful fear had flashed across her mind.
“No, Miss Ada—I mean Mrs Norton—not yet—not yet! but unless some one interferes there soon will be! Oh, ’m! I didn’t care to go to the Rectory, for I knew that they wouldn’t believe me there! but I’m afraid something dreadful will happen to my poor dear lady! I have come to you because you are her cousin, and I know you loved her, though things have gone so crooked since. But what shall we do, ’m? for since that last time when my lady met Mr Norton in the wood, and Sir Murray caught them—” Jane ceased, for Ada Norton leaped to her feet as if some galvanic shock had passed through her frame.
“Oh, what am I saying, ma’am? I didn’t think that you’d take it in that way, nor yet that you wouldn’t know of it. It was nothing, ma’am; only Sir Murray was telling my lady of it; and she said that they met by accident, and that almost all her words to him were to send her love to you, ma’am.”
“It was, then, upon that occasion?” said Ada Norton, in agitated tones.
“Yes, ’m; and I was in the dressing-room, and heard all. Not that Sir Murray spoke angrily, but in a curious, sneering tone that frightens my lady; and ever since then she’s been ill, and taking medicine; and—oh, ’m!—you would not get me into trouble for trying to do what’s right by my lady?”
“No—no,” said Ada, who was trying to recall her husband’s words when he had told her of his last meeting with Lady Gernon, for he had said nothing respecting the coming of Sir Murray.
“Well, ma’am,” sobbed Jane, “since then”—she sank her voice into a whisper, and sent a thrill of horror through Ada Norton as she spoke—“since then, ma’am, I’m sure Sir Murray has been trying to poison her!”