“Miss Goulburn, nobody in the world can take more interest in you, can have thought more of you than I, since you were a little girl at the school feasts. And in India I always wondered how you had grown up—if I should still find you when I got back. I don’t know if you are aware of all that has happened?”
“Papa is ruined,” said Helen in a very low voice.
“Ruined! Ah, yes; and something more.”
Helen trembled, tottering along by his side. “I asked him to tell me, but he wouldn’t. Don’t tell me, I had rather not know. Most likely,” she said, with a thrill of much pain in her voice, “when he knows you are here he will go away.”
“I am almost sure he will. And you have friends here?”
“Oh yes; all the people are our friends, every one. But what does that matter?” cried Helen, with a smile of desperation. “It need not make any difference. We shall go all the same. We shall not mind. But why you or any one should want to harm us, Mr Charles, I cannot tell. We never did harm to any one. Why should we have to fly from one place to another? We have done nobody any harm.”
Young Ashton looked at her with the tenderest pity in his face. “I came,” he said, “to take you home, if you would come, if I could find you, to Mrs Ashton. Every effort has been made to find you. We did not know what to wish—that he might not be found, or that you might. Pardon me, it was for this I came.”
“Oh no; for a very, very different purpose, Mr Ashton! I know that quite well—I know exactly,” said Helen, with a little heat. Then she stopped confused. What had she to do with it? Whatever he came for, what was it to Helen? Angry! was she angry? But for what, in the name of heaven? Then she was angry with herself for her irritation. The tears gathered thick in her eyes. “It will be better, much better, to let us alone,” she said; “what does it matter to any one where we go or where we stay? Never mind us, please. Go the château, where they expect you. You can say I will not come this evening; you need not say why. And let us alone, Mr Ashton. What can it matter to you if we are here or anywhere else? We have done no harm to you.”
“Miss Goulburn, you don’t know John; but he has been a sufferer; he is very bitter, he will not let things alone. If I could have formed the least idea that you were here—but even if I had known, what could I do to keep him from the place where his bride is living? And if he has any suspicion he will not be silenced. When I saw you—you with your open, candid face—walking so quietly along the road, and he by my side with the spirit of a bloodhound in him—— And yet how glad I am that you are here! But your father; good heavens!” cried the young man; “what a position for you to be in! you, so young, so innocent, knowing nothing!”
Just then they were met by a party of country people going home. “Bon soir, mademoiselle,” they cried with a little acclamation of kindness, the men taking off their hats; and one old woman paused to say, “You should be happy to-night if any one should, ma bonne demoiselle.”