Now, as Miss Ellen saw clearly, the past was utterly and completely the past—gone and done away with for ever. In future it would not be in any way possible to continue the life which had flowed on so evenly for nearly fifteen years. Already the sisters talked of change, of travel. Elsa must be taken away from the place where she had suffered so much. Change of scene must be resorted to; everything that could be done must be done to make her forget the horror of the last few days, and restore to her nervous system its usually placid tone.
Little Miss Fanny, who had stayed at home to keep her sister company, was trotting nervously in and out of the open door, now snipping a few withered geraniums, now mixing the chough's food, and moving the cockatoo's cage further into the shade. Jackie himself careered up and down in the sunshine like a contented sort of Mephistopheles. He had been down to the duck-pond, and chased away all the ducks, which was one cause of deep satisfaction to him; over and above which, the cockatoo was caged and he was free, so that he was able to march up and down under the very nose of the captive bird, deriding him both by word and gesture.
"My dear," said Miss Fanny, sitting down with a patient sigh, "how long it seems!"
"Long? Yes!... Oh, Fanny, if anything should have gone wrong, if any unforeseen piece of evidence——"
"My dear," said Miss Fanny again, in a confident manner, "any unforeseen bit of evidence will be a help to our case."
"You really think so?"
"Think so? Why, the matter admits of no doubt at all. It is plain—even the poor mother can't deny it; the boy himself admits it. He told Mr. Percivale where to look for the cudgel with which the blow was struck."
"I should like to see Mrs. Orton's face. I wonder how she will take it," murmured Miss Ellen.
The clock struck.
"How late it is!" she sighed.