Nor did Miss Chutney utter one word to Miss Wewitz when that lady unlocked the door, previous to escorting her to her bed-chamber; for the girl had now made up her mind to quit the house, if possible, before the coming of her guardian, and was desirous of strictly fulfilling the instructions of the Count.
The schoolmistress, who was growing alarmed at what appeared to her the extraordinary firmness of the young lady, but nevertheless, too proud to think for one moment of giving way to her, as she descended the stairs did not forget to tell Miss Chutney that, on the morrow, her guardian would take her under his care.
On being left alone, the first act of Miss Chutney was to lock the door, and look between the mattresses for the promised dress, and, to her great delight, there it was, rosary and all. She was not long in exchanging her own for that of the “chère sœur” and as she put on each fresh portion of the costume, she stood for several minutes before the cheval glass, examining the effect of it, and laughing to herself at the novel appearance it gave her; and when she had finally arranged the cap and veil, she placed the candle on the ground, the better to see herself from head to foot, remaining no little time in front of the glass, now kneeling down and crossing her hands upon her bosom, and now telling her beads, with upturned eyes, with all the affectation of excessive devotion.
Suddenly, as she heard the rain-drops pattering like shot against the window-panes, she thought of the poor Count, whom she was keeping out in the wet all the while she was admiring herself; so, putting the extinguisher hastily on the candle, she seized the clothes she had recently discarded, and making them into a bundle, she opened the window as noiselessly as possible, and dropped them into his arms.
She had no sooner closed the sash than she began to look with considerable trepidation on what she had done, and proceeded to divest herself of the disguise, lest Miss Wewitz should return and discover all. Nor was it until she began to take off the clothes she had so imprudently received in exchange for her own, that she thought to inquire what she was to do with them on the morrow. To be seen by any one but the Count in them, would be to “let out” the whole affair. “What a great big silly she was!”
The exclamation had barely escaped her lips, when her fingers ran against the sharp point of a pin inside the bosom of the dress, and she discovered fastened there a three-cornered note. This was some little relief to her; but in the dark, as she was, how was it possible for her to know what was in it? It was just like her thoughtlessness—why didn’t she examine the dress well before putting it on?—she might have known the Count, after all the consideration he had shown, would never have dreamt of leaving her in such a predicament. And thus she went on talking to herself—reflecting and imagining the future—now regretting her imprudence, and now viewing the coming adventure as a “good bit of fun”—then glorying in the discomfiture of the schoolmistress when her flight was found out—and then thinking over all the Count’s kindnesses to her, and assuring herself of his extreme goodness, until sleep put an end to her reveries.
CHAPTER XX.
“Luok, whar i’ th’ nuok o’ yonder tent
Yon crew are slyly smugglin’.