“To Fred!” they both cried, Phyllis with a little scream of surprise, Doris in a sort of inquiring tone, raising herself half from her sofa. They both stared at her strangely. They had no more notion why she should be going to Fred than the servant who had opened the door for her—most likely much less—for there were many things unknown to the young ladies which the servants knew.
“Fred will be very much flattered,” said Doris. “But why are you going? does he know? what is it for? is it for shopping? Have you made up your mind, all at once, that you want another dress?—I should say two or three, but that is neither here nor there. And what has put it so suddenly into your head? And where are you going to stay? Are you sure your friends are in London at this time of the year——?”
“Oh!” cried Effie, restored out of her exhaustion and confusion in a moment by this extraordinary speech, “is that all you think? a dress, and shopping to do! when Fred is alone, when he is in trouble, when even your father has deserted him—and his money gone, and his heart sore! Oh, is that all you know? I am going to tell him that I will never forsake him whatever others may do—that I am come to stand by him—that I am come——”
She stopped, not because she had no more to say, but because she lost the control of her voice and could do nothing but sob—drawing her breath convulsively, like a child that has wept its passion out, yet has not recovered the spasmodic grip upon its throat.
Phyllis and Doris looked at her with eyes more and more astonished and critical. They spoke to each other, not to her. “She means it, do you know, Dor!”
“It is like a melodrama, Phyll—Goodness, look at her! If we should ever go on the stage——!”
Effie heard the murmur of their voices, and turned her eyes from one to another: but her head was light with the fumes of her own passion, which had suddenly flared so high; and though she looked from one to another, instinctively, she did not understand what they said.
“And did you come to tell us this, so late, and all alone, you poor little Effie? And how did you manage to get away? and how are you to get back?”
“Of course,” said Doris, “we must send her back. Don’t ask so many silly questions, Phyll.”
“I am not going back,” said Effie. “They would stop me if they knew. Oh, will you send me to the train? for it is very dark and very wet, and I’m frightened, it’s all so lonely. I never meant to trouble anybody. But your father will be going too, and I would just sit in a corner and never say a word. Oh, will you ask him to let me go with him to the train?”