"Did you know Sir Karl was going to London?" asked Miss Blake.
"Yes," said Lucy; "he told me this morning. He had business with Plunkett and Plunkett."
Miss Blake suddenly pushed her hair from her forehead as if it troubled her, and bit her lips to enforce them to silence.
After dinner Miss Blake went out. Tom Pepp, who was appointed
bell-ringer to St. Jerome's, in his intervals of work, had played truant at Matins in the morning and wanted looking up; so she went to do it. This bell was a new feature at St. Jerome's, and caused much talk. It was hung over the entrance-door, communicating with a stout string inside: which string Tom Pepp had to pull--to his intense delight.
When Miss Blake got back, Lucy was still alone. The evening passed on, and Sir Karl did not come. Soon after nine o'clock a telegraphic dispatch arrived from him, addressed to Lady Andinnian. Her heart beat a little faster as she opened and read it.
"I cannot get my business done to-night, and must sleep in town. Shall be home to-morrow."
"I wonder what business it is that is detaining him?" spoke Lucy, mechanically, after handing the dispatch to Theresa, her thoughts bent upon her absent husband.
Theresa Blake was trembling to her fingers' ends. She flung down the dispatch after reading it, and flung after it a contemptuous word. The action and the word quite startled Lady Andinnian.
"I'll tell you, Lucy; I'll tell you because you ought to know it," she cried, scattering prudence to the winds in her righteous indignation; scattering even all consideration touching Jane Shore, the pillory, the white sheet, and the lighted taper. "The plea of business is good to assume: very convenient! Sir Karl did not go to London alone this morning. That girl was with him."
"What girl?" faltered Lucy.