“But is there no danger that she will be heard if she should scream, or cry, or make a fuss?”
“Not the least in the world. The place seems to be made of solid masonry; it has no other door but this, which is very thick, and, with those heavy curtains dropped over it, no one could ever hear her. Besides, I have no fear that she will make any disturbance—she is too proud.”
“What if she should die in there, mamma?”
The two plotting women looked at each other with whitening faces for a moment.
Mrs. Coolidge was the first to recover herself, however.
“Pshaw! what a foolish notion, Isabel. She is strong and well, and there is no danger. I will take her plenty of good food every day, and we can make her up a comfortable bed from our own, and she will do well enough.”
“But mamma, the bare possibility of the thing gives me a dreadful feeling. I am as weak as if I had just recovered from a swoon,” said Isabel, shuddering.
“Don’t be a fool, child; only let us tide the next four or five weeks over, and we shall be all right. However, if you say so, and are willing to run the risk, we will let her out now,” returned Mrs. Coolidge, impatiently.
“No, no; there is no other way as I see but to keep her shut up. Sir Charles is so particular and conscientious that he would never forgive the wrong we have done her; and, mamma, I am really very fond of him. I believe it would upset me entirely if anything should happen to separate us now, and I mean to try and be a better woman after I am married,” Isabel returned, nervously, and with very crimson cheeks, as if ashamed of the confession.
An hour later Lady Ruxley’s bell rang a furious peal. It had been nearly three hours since Brownie left her. Such a thing had never happened before, and she did not know what to make of it. She was getting so attached to her gentle and lovable companion that she missed her sadly if she were absent an hour.