"I do not believe it!" cried Brenda Helston hotly.
"Brenda!" cried her husband, while Mrs. Cooper grew pink, and trembled visibly.
"It was one of the maids masquerading," went on Brenda, unheeding. "The very idea of Melicent doing such a thing is outrageous! One of the maids used her window to get out by! I daresay she sleeps soundly."
The vicar had had his moment in which to collect himself.
"Unfortunately," he said, "my niece does not deny it."
CHAPTER XVIII
A NEW HOME
"——Many, I believe there are,
Who live a life of virtuous decency,
Men who can hear the Decalogue, and feel
No self-reproach; who of the moral law
Established in the land where they abide
Are strict observers; and not negligent
In acts of love to those with whom they dwell,
Their kindred and the children of their blood.
Praise be to such, and to their slumbers, peace!
—But of the poor man ask, the abject poor;
Go and demand of him, if there be here,
In this cold abstinence from evil deeds;
And these inevitable charities,
Wherewith to satisfy the human soul."
—WORDSWORTH.
It was getting dusk—too dusk to see to read the "History of Europe"; and Melicent, who had scarcely slept all night, stretched herself upon her bed and fell asleep. The flash of a light in her eyes awoke her, and starting up, she saw her uncle come in with a lamp, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Helston.
She gave a low, thrilling cry, like that of a babe who sees its mother. She had not expected this. The vicar had never seen her look as she did when running to her friends' arms. He set down the lamp and left them together.