Rachel was the name of Miss Russell’s maidservant.
“Edith went out early yesterday evening, and she has not returned. They cannot guess what has become of her. Oh, Charles, go over at once! If anything has happened to her!”
The clergyman listened in no little agitation.
“None. She is such a strange girl; and lately, I am afraid, she has been, unhappy. I am going down to the station to make inquiries, and they fancy she may have taken the train to London.”
“Strange? It is horrible! Oh, Charles, she has never been quite the same since her cousin came down here visiting. I thought that you were her choice, and I hoped you would some day marry her; but since young Hetherington was here----”
Santley, who had broken a little bread and drunk a cup of tea, rose impatiently.
“You women think of nothing but marrying and giving in marriage,” he said. “Well, I will go over and speak to Miss Russell. I cannot think that any harm has happened to Edith.”
“I hope and pray not. But to be-away all night--it is unaccountable.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Santley, more troubled than he cared to show, “she has gone to London.”
“I really cannot tell. Young ladies-take strange fancies; and if, as you suggest, there is anything between young Hetherington and herself----”
“I did not suggest anything of the kind.”
“I am sure she cares nothing for her cousin,” returned Miss Santley.
Her brother shrugged his shoulders, and, putting on his hat and overcoat, walked out of the Vicarage. On reaching the open air, where all looked dark and cold, he trembled like a leaf. What could it mean? What last freak had come over the infatuated girl? Could it be possible that she had carried out her wild threat to leave the place, and take her secret with her--perhaps to some nameless grave? He remembered their last conversation, when she had first told him of her condition, and beseeched him at once to make her his wife. He remembered how wild she had seemed, how despairing, and of how little avail, to calm her, his words had been. If any harm had come to her, the evil lay at his door. It was horrible to think of! Although another woman had come between them, although he no longer loved her with that wild frenzy which had first urged him to evil, he had still a conscience, and he could not bear to think that any harm had come to her. Then, again, he shuddered at the thought of any exposure. He had meant to marry her, sooner or later; and he had already made arrangements to’ hide from the world, any knowledge of her condition. She was to have gone away to a secret place; and then, when her travail was over, he had meant to act honourably by her. And now, by some act of madness, she had perhaps put it out of his power! Surely, if she had gone away in accordance with the plan they had made together, she would have sent him some intimation of her purpose. It was extraordinary, altogether.