“Oh,” cried Mrs. John, springing to her feet, “I knew all that was said was nonsense, and that there never would be a cure. Agnes Hill, you may risk your life, but I will not risk mine—at the mercy of a——”
She had sprung up from her chair with a scared face, and hurried towards the door. As for Mary, she did not understand this recoil of her sister-in-law from her. “What is it?” she said; “what is it? Why should she have any grudge against me? Tell her, Agnes, that I have no grudge; that I am glad. After all, though she was so frightened of me, I have done her no harm.”
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Letitia hurried along the passage to the room which she always occupied at the Park, and where Felicie was already arranging her “things” out of the box. She took refuge in this room as in a safe place, and locked the door behind her with an impulse of fright. When, however, she sat down panting to think it over, reassured by these walls and by the tranquil presence of her maid busied about ordinary concerns, and by the conviction that Mary was in the hands of the attendant and would not be allowed to follow her, Mrs. Parke began to perceive that her panic might be thought foolish, and that there was really nothing to be afraid of. “For they would never have allowed her to hurt me,” she said to herself—“and she did not mean to hurt me, poor thing. She meant to be kind. She was always silly,” Letitia said to herself, her old contempt for Mary Hill beginning to get the better of her panic and terror of Lady Frogmore. But her heart again jumped to her mouth when the sound of someone running along the corridor ended in a thump upon the locked door. “Oh, don’t open it, don’t open it, Felicie!” she said, springing up to hide herself. She was only stopped by the sound of a voice which came in among the drumming. “Mamma, mamma, open—mamma, let me in, I want mamma,” said the intruder. Even then Letitia had horrible visions of the mad-woman taking advantage of the opportunity, while Duke was admitted, to rush in upon her victim. But even the boy’s presence was an additional protection. He would come between her and any assault. He was a big, strong boy. When John Parke came in just behind his son, Letitia felt almost at her ease. Between them, the man and the boy could surely deal with the maniac. She could not in their presence do any real harm. John Parke’s face was covered with clouds; he was moody and serious, scarcely moving out of his absorbed gravity to receive the eager salutations of Duke, who had been greatly subdued by the melancholy of the house, and delighted to find in the advent of his parents an opening out of the gloom. John went up scowling to his wife, and, standing over her, desired that Felicie might be sent away. “I have something to say to you,” he said. Letitia made herself as comfortable as circumstances would permit. She took off her cloak and hat, and had an easy chair drawn to the fire. Then she sent her maid away and turned to her husband, who had been looking on at these proceedings with impatience. “Now, what is it?” she said.
“I am glad you can attend to me at last. I want to speak to you about that poor woman and the state of the house.”
“What poor woman? Do you mean Mary Hill? You can’t tell me much about her, for I have seen her. Talk of cures! She is as mad as a March hare. Duke, just lock the door.”
“Why should he lock the door? What I’ve got to say is of importance. Don’t let us have any nonsense!” said John Parke.
“She is as mad—as any one ever was. If she came bursting into the room in that state—I should die. I know I should die.”
“They said she was quite quiet,” he cried.
“And so she is! very quiet. John, she said she was the Dowager and that I was Lady Frogmore.”