‘And the young ladies?’
‘Miss Hadleigh is still with her father; Miss Caroline and Bertha are here.’
‘And thou’lt have to stay here to-night, too,’ broke in the dame as she continued her rearrangement of the lighter pieces of furniture; ‘there cannot be a corner for thee in the cottage.’
Pansy gave thanks to the dame, and went on to say that it was her intention to return to her grandfather in the morning, but she would ‘see father before starting.’
‘I did not intend to be back so soon,’ she went on, with an awkward glance first at Madge, next at Aunt Hessy. She did not know how to convey her information with the least offence. ‘But there was something I heard about Missy and Master Philip this afternoon that I thought she ought to know—that you all ought to know.’
‘About Philip and me!’ exclaimed Madge, the colour heightening in her cheeks as she wondered if it could be possible that the broken engagement had already become the subject of common gossip.
‘Sit thee down, Pansy,’ said Aunt Hessy, ceasing to work, ‘and tell us plainly what thou hast heard.’
Thus encouraged, the girl repeated with considerable accuracy the substance of the conversation she had overheard.
‘And as I fancied,’ Pansy concluded, ‘that though you knew of the mischief, you might not know how it was being put right—I came straight to tell you.’
There was a pause. The treachery of Wrentham to Philip and the villainous insinuations with which he had endeavoured to poison his mind regarding Madge in order to distract him and prevent him from looking too closely into business details—the whole wicked scheme was made clear to Aunt Hessy. Madge saw at once how grossly Philip’s generous confidence had been abused, but at the moment she did not quite understand why Wrentham in carrying out his plot should be so foolish as to try to slander her to Philip—she knew he could only try to do it, for not one word against her would be credited for an instant by her lover. And yet!... He had been so strange of late in many ways: he had shown so much displeasure with her for maintaining Beecham’s secret—what may he not have suffered from brief doubt, although he did not believe in anything ill that was suggested to him.