Did not Hesketh go to the same chapel with
Thomas Dixon and his wife? And had she not a romantic soul, far above
furbelows--a soul which had flung itself into the cause of the "heiress,"
to the point of keeping the child's secret, even from her ladyship?
Hesketh indeed had suffered sharply from qualms of conscience in this
respect. But Felicia had spared her as much as possible, by keeping the
precise moment of her escapade to herself.
She groped her way round, till she came to a side path leading to an
entrance. The path indeed was that by which Faversham had been originally
carried into the Tower, across the foot-bridge. Peering over a low wall
that bounded the path, she looked startled into an abyss of leafless
trees, with a bright gleam of moonlit water far below. In front of her
was a door and steps, and some rays of light penetrating through the
shuttered windows beside the door, showed that there was life within.
Felicia mounted the steps and knocked. No one came. At last she found a
bell and rang it--cautiously. Steps approached. The door was opened, and
a gray-haired woman stood on the threshold.
"Well, what's your business?" she said sharply. It was evident that she
was short-sighted, and did not clearly see the person outside.
"Please, I want to speak to Mr. Melrose."
The clear, low voice arrested the old woman.
"Eh?" she said testily. "And who may you be? You cawn't see Mr. Melrose,
anyways."
"I want to see him particularly.
Pages:
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417