CHAPTER XXXVI
THE DEAD-AWAKE
“Supposing I had told my secret?” reflected Hephzibah, peeping through the key-hole. “Supposing I had told my secret? If I hadn’t met that woman at Klomp’s I believe I really should have told the Freule this time. Wonderful are the ways of Providence! Imagine the slatternly creature established here at the Manor-house playing the mistress over—me!” Hephzibah peeped down again. “She in there’s bad enough, the parson’s daughter. But at least she leaves a body alone.” Then Hephzibah shuffled away on velvet slippers, the only soft thing about her.
The key-hole which had attracted her was Ursula’s. My Lady sat at her nightly task by the lamp. Her forefinger was inked, her earnest forehead was puckered, yet the figures would not add up right. She was learning book-keeping by double entry; twice a week a master came from Drum.
She sighed, and pushed her hand in among her rumpled hair. Romance is romance; alas, that in real life it should so seldom be romantic! There was less money even than in Otto’s time. Therefore, things went even worse with everybody than they had gone in Otto’s time. She sighed, returning to her distasteful task.
All the villagers disliked her, and she knew it. They considered it a slight upon themselves that their parson’s daughter should usurp, by a fluke, the ancient throne of the Van Helmonts.
Ursula would not have minded this, however, had she known how to pay her succession duty and make both ends meet.
As she sat thus, working and worrying, the door was suddenly thrown wide open, and, without any warning, Hephzibah walked in.
Her face shone white; her whole manner and expression were as of one sick with alarm.