Miss Crawford drew one of her hands from Judith's clasp to find her handkerchief, and then laid her head on the girl's shoulder and sobbed. "If it has happened so," she said—"if it has been my carelessness that has done it, I shall never forgive myself. Never! For I can never say that I didn't suspect myself of being unfit. It will break my heart. I have been so proud to think that I had never failed any one who trusted me. And now a poor motherless girl, who was to be my especial care, who had no one but me to care for her—Oh, Judith, what has become of her?"
There was silence for a minute. How could Judith answer her?
"I can never say I didn't doubt myself; but it was only a doubt. And how could I give up with so many depending on me?"
"Wait till we know something more," Judith pleaded. "Wait till we hear what Mr. Nash says in answer to your message. I am sure you have tried to act for the best."
"I shall never hold up my head again," said Miss Crawford, and laid it feebly down as if she were tired out.
The telegram came. Emmeline had not been heard of, and Mr. Nash would be at Brenthill that afternoon.
Judith searched the little room which the school-girl had occupied, but no indication of her intention to fly was to be found. She dared not question the servants before Mr. Nash's arrival. Secrecy might be important, and there would be an end to all hope of secrecy if once suspicion were aroused.
"There's nothing to do but to wait," she said, coming down to Miss Crawford. "I think, if you don't mind, I'll go home for an hour or so."
"No, no, no! don't go!"
"I must," said Judith. "I shall not be long."