"Which is very bad for you, Charlotte: it is wearing you out. This living, restless anxiety will not bring elucidation any the surer or quicker."
"Not bring it! But it will. Will my prayers and my anguish not be heard, think you? God is good."
They parted with the last words. Charlotte Guise, leaning on the side-gate as she looked after him, raised her eyes to the blue canopy of heaven: and there and then, in her simple faith, poured forth a few words of prayer.
[CHAPTER XXXI.]
CALLING IN THE BLACKSMITH.
Things were swiftly coming to a crisis in Miss Hallet's house, though that lady was very far from suspecting it. Time had again gone on since the last chapter, and Walter Dance was about again.
After the evening that witnessed Miss Hallet's fright at the vision of the Grey Friar, she had been very ill. Whether it was the terror itself, or her mortification at having betrayed it, or the fall in the road that affected her, certain it was that she had a somewhat long illness, and was attended by Mr. Parker. No one could be more attentive to her than Jane was; and Miss Hallet was willing to forget that the girl had given cause for complaint. But Miss Hallet found, now that she was well, that the same cause was still in existence: at all times of unseasonably late hours Jane would be abroad. Scarcely an evening passed but Jane would make an excuse to go out; or go out without excuse if none could be framed. She had taken lately to go more to Stilborough, often without assigning any reason for it. The hour at which she would come in was uncertain; sometimes it was after ten--a very unhallowed hour in the sober estimation of her aunt. One night she had stayed out till one o'clock in the morning, sending Miss Hallet into a perfect fever of suspense and anger. She ran in, panting with the haste she had made up the cliff, and she looked worn, haggard, almost wild. Miss Hallet attacked her with some harsh words: Jane responded by a burst of tears, and declared in a tone of truth that her aunt could scarcely disbelieve, that she had only been "looking at the sea" and looking at it alone.
From that evening, Miss Hallet had taken to watch Jane as a subject of curiosity. Jane was getting nervous. More than once when Miss Hallet had gone upstairs and surprised, unintentionally, Jane in her bedroom--for that lady, since her illness, had walked about in perfectly noiseless list shoes, for comfort only, not to come upon people unawares--she had found Jane standing over a certain open drawer. Jane would shut it hastily and lock it with shaking fingers, and sometimes shake all over besides. Jane had never been nervous in her life, mentally reasoned Miss Hallet: why should she be becoming so now? Her eyes had habitually a strangely-sad look in them, something like those of a hunted hare; her face was worn and thin. The sudden appearance of anyone at the door or window would make Jane start and turn pale: she could eat nothing, and would often be so absorbed in thought as to give contrary answers. "What is the time by the clock, Jane?" her aunt might say, for instance: "No, aunt, I forgot it," might be the answer. Altogether, taking one thing with another, Miss Hallet came to the conclusion that there was some mystery about Jane, just as certain other personages of our story decided there was mystery in the Friar's Keep.
The matter troubled Miss Hallet. She knew not what to do, to whom to speak, or of whom to ask advice. Speaking to Jane herself went for nothing: for the girl invariably denied, with all the unconcern she could put on, that anything was amiss or that she was different from what she used to be. It was now that Miss Hallet felt her isolated position, and the reserve with which she had treated the village.
Her own illness had left her somewhat less strong-minded than before, or she would never have spoken of it. One day, however, when Mrs. Bent came up to pay a social visit, and Jane had gone down the cliff on some necessary errand, Miss Hallet, who had been "tried" that morning by Jane's having an hysterical fit, condescended to speak of Harry Castlemaine in connection with her niece, and to ask Mrs. Bent whether she ever saw them together now.