She was not in the schoolroom. She was not in the dining-room. She was not anywhere that Roland could see. He turned to descend the stairs again more slowly than he had gone up, when Jane Greatorex came running from the landing above.
"Jane! Jane! I told you you were not to go down."
The voice, calling after the child, would have been like Annabel's but for a choking sound in it. He looked up and saw her: saw her face inflamed with tears, heard the sobs of grief. It took Roland more completely aback than any sight he had witnessed at Port Natal. The face disappeared swiftly, and Miss Jane jumped into his arms in triumph.
"Jenny, what is it?" he asked in a kind of dumb whisper, as if motion were suddenly struck out of him. "What is amiss with Miss Channing?"
"It's through Aunt Bede. She puts herself into passions. I thought she'd have hit her this morning. She told her she was not worth her salt."
Roland's face grew white with indignation.
"Your Aunt Bede did!"
"Oh, it's nothing new," said the child carelessly. "Aunt Bede goes on at her nearly as much every day."