She was far above the paltry affectation of being confused. She answered me as she might have answered a brother or a father.
`You have relieved me of indescribable wretchedness; you have given me a new life. How can I be ungrateful enough to have any concealment from you? I love him,' she said simply, `I have loved him from first to last--even when I was wronging him in my own thoughts; even when I was saying the hardest and the cruellest words to him. Is there any excuse for me, in that? I hope there is--I am afraid it is the only excuse I have. When to-morrow comes, and he knows that I am in the house, do you think--?'
She stopped again, and looked at me very earnestly.
`When to-morrow comes,' I said, `I think you have only to tell him what you have just told me.'
Her face brightened; she came a step nearer to me. Her fingers trifled nervously with a flower which I had picked in the garden, and which I had put into the button-hole of my coat.
`You have seen a great deal of him lately,' she said. `Have you, really and truly, seen that?'
`Really and truly,' I answered. `I am quite certain of what will happen to-morrow. I wish I could feel as certain of what will happen to-night.'
At that point in the conversation, we were interrupted by the appearance of Betteredge with the tea-tray. He gave me another significant look as he passed on into the sitting-room. `Aye! aye! make your hay while the sun shines. The Tartar's upstairs, Mr. Jennings--the Tartar's upstairs!'
We followed him into the room. A little old lady, in a corner, very nicely dressed, and very deeply absorbed over a smart piece of embroidery, dropped her work in her lap, and uttered a faint little scream at the first sight of my gipsy complexion and my piebald hair.
`Mrs. Merridew,' said Miss Verinder, `this is Mr. Jennings.'
`I beg Mr. Jenning's pardon,' said the old lady, looking at Miss Verinder, and speaking at me. `Railway travelling always makes me nervous. I am endeavouring to quiet my mind by occupying myself as usual. I don't know whether my embroidery is out of place, on this extraordinary occasion. If it interferes with Mr. Jennings's medical views, I shall be happy to put it away, of course.'
I hastened to sanction the presence of the embroidery, exactly as I had sanctioned the absence of the burst buzzard and the Cupid's wing. Mrs. Merridew made an effort--a grateful effort--to look at my hair. No! it was not to be done. Mrs. Merridew looked back again at Miss Verinder.
`If Mr. Jennings will permit me,' pursued the old lady, `I should like to ask a favour. Mr. Jennings is about to try a scientific experiment to-night. I used to attend scientific experiments when I was a girl at school. They invariably ended in an explosion. If Mr. Jennings will be so very kind, I should like to be warned of the explosion this time. With a view to getting it over, if possible, before I go to bed.'
I attempted to assure Mrs. Merridew that an explosion was not included in the programme on this occasion.
`No,' said the old lady. `I am much obliged to Mr. Jennings--I am aware that he is only deceiving me for my own good. I prefer plain dealing. I am quite resigned to the explosion--but I do want to get it over, if possible, before I go to bed.'
Here the door opened, and Mrs. Merridew uttered another little scream. The advent of the explosion? No: only the advent of Betteredge.
`I beg your pardon, Mr. Jennings,' said Betteredge, in his most elaborately confidential manner. `Mr. Franklin wishes to know where you are. Being under your orders to deceive him, in respect to the presence