"I must. I wish I could stay, but I dare not; indeed it was not safe to-night to come in at all."
"Aunt Edith, if you could only stay! It is so lonely. Four-and-twenty hours before I shall see you or Maude again! It is like being left alone to die."
"Not to die, I trust," she said, her tears falling fast. "We shall be together some time for ever, but I pray we may have a little happiness on earth first!"
Very full was her heart that night, and but for the fear that her red eyes would betray her, she could have wept all the way home. Stealing in at a side door, she gained her room, and found that Mr. Chattaway, fortunately, had not discovered her absence.
A few minutes after she entered, the house was in a commotion. Sounds were heard proceeding from the kitchen, and Mrs. Chattaway and others hastened towards it. One of the servants was badly scalded. Most unfortunately, it happened to be the cook, Rebecca. In taking some calve's-foot jelly from the fire, she had inadvertently overturned the boiling liquid.
Miss Diana, who was worth a thousand of Mrs. Chattaway in an emergency, had the woman placed in a recumbent position, and sent one of the grooms on horseback for Mr. King. But Miss Diana, while sparing nothing that could relieve the sufferer, did not conceal her displeasure at the awkwardness.
"Was it jelly you were making, Rebecca?" she sternly demanded.
Rebecca was lying back in a large chair, her feet raised. Everyone was crowding round: even Mr. Chattaway had come to ascertain the cause of the commotion. She made no answer.
Bridget did; rejoicing, no doubt, in her superior knowledge. "Yes, ma'am, it was jelly: she had just boiled it up."
Miss Diana wheeled round to Rebecca. "Why were you making jelly? It was not ordered."