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This gave me a warm feeling for the poor lady, though after all there was little I could do to help her. After Mr. Brympton's departure, Mr. Ranford took to coming again, though less often than formerly. I met him once or twice in the grounds, or in the village, and I couldn't but think there was a change in him too; but I set it down to my disordered fancy. The weeks passed, and Mr.
I must have been asleep," she says. "My front is all over one ear. And now do run along, Miss Hartley, dear, for I hear the clock striking four, and I must go down this very minute and put on the Virginia ham for Mr. Brympton's dinner." TO all appearances, things went on as usual for a week or two. The only difference was that Mr.
Brympton's knowledge; and, putting this together with the scene of the night before, and with much else that I had noticed and suspected, I began to wonder if the poor lady was weary of her life, and had come to the mad resolve of ending it. The idea took such hold on me that I reached the village on a run, and dropped breathless into a chair before the chemist's counter.
Whether it was compassion for my mistress, who had grown more and more dependent on me, or unwillingness to try a new place, or some other feeling that I couldn't put a name to, I lingered on as if spell-bound, though every night was dreadful to me, and the days but little better. For one thing, I didn't like Mrs. Brympton's looks. She had never been the same since that night, no more than I had.
Brympton's room. On the way I heard nothing and saw nothing: all was dark and quiet as the grave. When I reached my mistress's door the silence was so deep that I began to think I must be dreaming, and was half-minded to turn back. Then a panic seized me, and I knocked. There was no answer, and I knocked again, loudly. To my astonishment the door was opened by Mr. Brympton.
At the same instant there came another sound from below stairs a stealthy mysterious sound, as of a latch-key turning in the house-door. I ran to Mrs. Brympton's room and knocked. There was no answer, and I knocked again. This time I heard some one moving in the room; the bolt slipped back and my mistress stood before me. To my surprise I saw that she had not undressed for the night.
Brympton's voice in her room, I went round by the dressing-room, thinking I would lay out her dinner-gown before going in. The dressing-room is a large room with a window over the portico that looks toward the gardens. Mr. Brympton's apartments are beyond. When I went in, the door into the bedroom was ajar, and I heard Mr.
"To tell you the truth, that was Emma Saxon's room, and my mistress has kept it closed ever since her death." "And who was Emma Saxon?" "Mrs. Brympton's former maid." "The one that was with her so many years?" said I, remembering what Mrs. Railton had told me. Mrs. Blinder nodded. "What sort of woman was she?" "No better walked the earth," said Mrs. Blinder. "My mistress loved her like a sister."
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