t six in t seemed still t to me, for my dle of course o notains out. , came knog at my door, I t I Lant Street. I ers filed free by Mr Ibbs. t imes; and sometimes times te villains. Once a man put a ko Mr Ibbss t, because too sloarted from t, O I meant to be to , I could not tell you; a. S ter for me, and s my fire; took t, aied it into of
slops, and her apron.
I o tip my piddle into , I sure I liked it. But I said, t—t; for s and tossed o say, hanking her?
Servants. Sake my breakfast in Mrs Stiless pantry. turned a me—getting a quick look, I t, at my frod my srunk, on the way.
I ed for to take, t oo cold to t in, I sao see t before, by t treaked bro tained we.
From t-door room t saying, Yes, miss. tting of a door.
t doo my breakfast—first losing my ttom of ts stairs, and finding myself in t. ttles, and ted panes. Gentleman t, too, about ts. iless pantry at last togs, and . t o Mr Lilly for forty-five years, . ts, . e hey say Londoners lush!
Mr ay said o me, but spoke to Mrs Stiles about ter to left; and wold he Dunravens, of
reet, Mayfair, o s a humbug he was.
off at seven. Mrs Stiles leave table before up. hen she did she said,
You o Miss Maud slept well.
I didnt knoo say to t. S on, anyway:
Miss Maud rises early. S you be sent to o wasicular.
My o me; but I le stone sink sry.
I felt t drunk it. I ain I so it again.
I was nervous.
Sook me up. e , as before, by ts stairs, but truck out into a led to one or t one of t catc came, but suppose s. Sraigurhe iron handle, and led me in.
ts s floor—rifling turkey carpets, t ables about, and one or ts mout branctled in their frames.
ttle spluttering fire in a vast old grate, and before tanding gazing into t turning as sep, and starting, and blinking—tress of t all our plot on.
I ed Gentleman o be quite out of t s t—at least, I did not tudied aller t very fair—and er. , for I liked to bite my oo be s young-looking; but as to t— to udied Maud Lilly as sood before me no, s ked, as I ook a step or to meet me, and opped, and put ly, at . t—I onis in a of velvet. On toned up tig t. She said,
Miss Smito be my maid, from London! And may I call you Susan? I at Briar, Susan; and I muco like, i do it very easily— very easily, indeed.
S, s, ing voice, tilting me, still quite crimson at t Lant Street, and gripped my skirt and made a curtsey. And w sook my hand in hers.
S Mrs Stiles, he door.
You need not stay, Mrs Stiles, s you my eye. Youve I am an orpo
Briar as a c all to care for me. I ot tell you all tiles a mot time.
Silted iles catch her
gaze, but a bit of colour struggled into tered. I s , myself; but servants groimental over take my .
Anye; and t us. Maud smiled again, and led me to one of t o t beside me. Ser my journey—e supposed you lost! ser my room. Did I like my bed? Did I like my breakfast?
And anyone Lant Street—as if I mig t s in a different sort of in a gaping try in a notig, o o .
Of course, I t I kneas.
sold me all ties I so do, tidy her gowns. She lowered her eyes.
Youll see of t Briar, s matters little, I suppose, since . But you, of course, o t styles of London.
I t of Daintys . Pretty used, I said.
And your last mistress, s on te a fine lady? So look at me, I expect!
Sill , and again looked from me; and again I t, You pigeon!
But Lady Alice— Gentleman oo kind to laug anyone,
and grand clot not ougo be judged. All in all, I t, it ty clever to say; and so too, for w s me in a new way and down, and sook my hink. I said, Lady Alice always said so, miss.
ter t Gentleman ten for me, and t t be t to present it. I took it from my pocket and over. So to o t. Sood a long time looking at t me; and my beat a little fast to t iced somet it t: for I sa last t rembled; and I guessed t s a proper cer w she should say.
I t it almost a s, t sher.
ell, sting it inside , Lady Alice does indeed speak o leave her house.
Pretty sorry, miss, I said. But to India. I ther fierce.
S. Strong lig.
Seete. I smiled, but kept my lips s—for my oeet are yelloo say quite yellohem yellower.
S, miss.
library. t library, of its kind, in all of England. I dare say you soon.
t hing, miss, Im sure.
So read, of course?
I so read, miss? Sing. Pretty muc last. t is, I am sure I so be shown.
Sared.
to learn, I mean, I said.
Sared, even , disbelieving sort of laug mean, you ot read? Not really? Not a a letter? tle table . Still ook t to me. Go on, s. Read me any part, I s mind if you stumble.
I beginning to s. I ope and looked at a page. It . I tried anot one Mauds gaze, like a flame against my face. I felt tter. take a c.
Our Fatried, w in heaven—
But t t. I closed t my lip, and looked at t, very bitterly, ell, a maid t t read e fancy letters in a curling ed my eyes to hers and said,
I migaug, miss. I am t willing. Im sure I could learn, in half a wink—
But shing.
Be taugly taking back t allo. Not read! Ao live in t t meant. You should know, indeed!
Sill ill smiling, tolling of t times; and then her smile fell.
No go to Mr Lilly; and wrikes one I shall be free again.
S—sounding, I t, just like a girl in a story. Arent tories, s, and s? She said,
e to me, Susan, at my uncles e.
I will, miss, I said.
S racted kind of to it, and put o o c goed at the bad showed her calves.
S my eye in tsey.
Shall I go, miss? I said.
Sepped back. Stay, s my rooms in order, will you?
S to t topped. She said,
I . I , in London, miss you too greatly. It , I t Mr Rivers mentioned? Se well, when you saw him?
S tion fall, like it o o make all t. As if sy!
I said, s.
S. Did ruly? she said.
truly, miss.
S tly.
I remembered ting at t kitcticoat, saying, You s bitch.
Im sure hes very kind, miss, I said.
tinkling of a little urned and ran, leaving tairs as s down.
I ed a sed, tepped to t my foot to it, and kicked it s. I to t te Street. I lifted my Maud my o my freckled ceeto as Gentleman it over t as , and tor be standing ready rait-coat at the madhouse door.
ts , after seeing hen.
But I t it in a distented sort of o admit, e iller t se, ttling of panes of glass. I to t tle red sand-bags laid upon to keep it out, but t , and my o one, and my finger came aood and s t a vie plain grass and trees. A fehe lawn. I wondered which way London was.
I er. I arnish.
t of somet my rooms in order, Maud I supposed must be be anot in house were all of dark oak panelling,
very gloomy on t so pat in t spot t I looked ood, I sa me, plain as daylight.
It o as I , t o my o before and listened for seemed a very fooliso I sa. For it very grand, but grand enoug, s smell to it, and a ed bed ains and a opy of old moreen. I sure t sleeping in a bed like t make me sneeze: I t of all t and dead flies and spiders t must be gat looked as t been taken doy years. t a nig—I folded t it beo te. So muc t aged looking-glass, s t e black . I s ladies leaves in t , for it go no made t ened. Seeing t, I t again Maud ainly rid of a stuff like ter someto te and dainty.
But o Lant Street teacy goods. I got and girlis, t to flat; after t, t to. ther was a
dressing-table. t re tles
and pinst—I tidied too—and fitted be of fancy
drae ones, in top dratens in
t.
t t I guessed spelled out Mauds name. I so t, h scissors and a pin.
I did no suc left tly, and I about til I oucudied it all t muco look at; but t tle sat upon a table beside her bed.
took it up it gave a dull sort of rattle. t it some, you only o ss like giving brio an oyster. I used one of her hairpins.
turned out to be lio squeak. I am not sure to find in tleman, some keepsake, some letter, some little bill-and-coo. But ure portrait, in a frame of gold yle from ty years before, and t look muc I t it a pretty safe bet t s t, if s Maud kept ure locked up in a box, and did not .
I puzzled so long over turning ture, looking for marks, t took it up, like everyt t , or Mrs Stiles—so tch me
standing by trait in my ba its place, and made it fast again.
t to make a pick-lock . I s o and t me a thief.
to do, after I . I stood some more at t eleven oclock a maid brougray. Miss Maud isnt ea-pot; but tea in fairy-sips, to make it last took tray back doo save t into tcared and the cook said,
ell, I never! If you t aint quioug speak to Mrs Stiles. But Im sure, Miss Fee never called anyone idle.
Miss Fee sia. It seemed very cruel to be supposed prouder trying to be kind.
But I said not, Miss Maud likes me, if you dont! For so ime to pass, not for its o as it ake me back to her.
At least at Briar you alruck, and to tairs and til one of t by, and so t floor, t you reac aircase and a it you t you ures ood and put my fio its little eeting to , but slo be reading to her uncle from a book.
ted my for me to enter.
I sa: sting at a desk tle ly by, but s beside a s ts lig. Above s glass upon it. All about unning amount. ories does one man need? I looked at t e gloves and drehem ba.
So , to t, because of t see. A cross voice said,
is it?
I pused sat Mr Lilly, Mauds old uncle; and to describe o tell everything.
coat, and a velvet cap, t ub of red ting from it ained all over be stained obacco. e. o black, from w pages.
hem he had a pair of glasses, shaded green. he saw me and said,
he devil are you?
Maud ttons at .
tly. Miss Smith.
Behemselves up and groer.
Miss Smit me but talking to , like t one?
I dont know, said Maud. I asked , Susan?
I didnt kno I said, No, miss. I dont think so.
Mr Lilly at o his hand across his ear.
I dont care for s? t s?
Maud smiled. She , Uncle, she said.
turbing me now?
So fetch me.
to fetche clock sound?
o tcoat and dre an a great gold repeater, tilting o catc Maud, ill fumbling ening of ook a step, meaning to -s came ongue.
the finger!
o me, and sil ter t t undere black, and so guessed en. But at t moment range, and spoke so s quite failed me. I t be proo fits. I took anotep, and t made ill last Maud came to me and touched my arm.
Dont be afraid, sly. my feet, t into t, a flat brass ing finger.
Uncle does not care to s eyes upon no servant advance furto this mark here.
Soe of er.
Does s? said her uncle.
Yes soe. S very ime—s you, Susan?
Yes, miss, I said— I s; for it ainly neo me, t gazing at a line of print could spoil it. But t? Besides t anyt rue. Yes, miss, I said, a sed time; and then: Yes, sir.
tsey. Mr Lilly snorted, looking me tened uro leave him.
Make , Maud, he door behind us.
I will, Uncle, she murmured.
Noook me round taircase to t of lund coffee in anot; but w Cook up, she made a face.
Eggs, s, like you must be. did you think of my uncle, Susan?
I said, Im sure hes very clever, miss.
he is.
And ing, I believe, a great big diary?
Sionary, yes. A great many years labour. e are presently at F.
So see of t.
Astonishing, I said.
S a spoon to t of took its te and yello and made anot it from eat t eat tter.
t k g bites of bread and sips of coffee, and once
rubbing for a mi a spot upon te!
I sa mark, til t came to take tray ao e again—so a neer, as I put coal on t te, and they looked like gloves for a doll.
Sainly, t you Lant Street? I did not t ty lonely, and pretty bookis be, in a ? to tening rain, but so go out ood at ttle black press, looking over s, s and s. t killed nearly an s w. her hands upon mine and said,
Be slower. o here?
S her eyes were sad. I said, No, miss.
In t on a pale grey cloak, and over tens. Stle leat ready, t tle of er, and scissors: s saying to cut flo staircase to to ts. outside ood blinking, our our eyes against tery sun. t sa, at nighe
fog and I so say it seemed less grim seemed nos cs roof s. It ains t of trunks of ivy. It front door, split do rain o press , and e sideo leave t all.
It o see epping out of t gloomy place, like a pearl ing out of an oyster.
It o cer s at her back.
But t muco stay for, out in t avenue of trees, t led up to t of gravel t t in. t grely les; and an ro ttle stone cross to tand and gaze at til s tarted a muddy la led you to a s-up old red c, quietest place I ever sao go to it, but Maud took t en. For at t oomb, t her.
S and look at t for an a time, fat only for keeping do gre it; and ters of lead s o take off stains.
Sil me first day, wried, she said,
It is a daugy, to tend to t ch me.
So I left o it, and ombs. ts made it ring. I of my o give graves to murderesses. t their bodies in quicklime.
Did you ever pour salt on to do it, and to see to me once,
Your mot. Sen me smelt it!
again. I took up a pair of kitc to . And thing!
I wondered bad blood flowed in me.
But s to ask. S, gazing amped my feet. t last s her, passed her hand across her eyes, and drew up her hood.
ts tle further.
So t ran alongside a took you to t see t landing-place tted atle upturned punt t made a kind of seat. ts er very quiet and muddy and filled ing fiso t ter. I supposed sened of s, and sat ip of it pressed against h.
I sat beside cold, and so quiet it thin.
Pretty stretcer, I said, for politeness sake.
A barge by. toucs. Iwaved.
Bound for London, said Maud, looking after them.
London?
S t?—-t t trifling bit of er s t ill, t it o c folloer; t passed from sigs engine faded, ts c. till sat ip of t ook up stones and began to to ter. Sc, every splaso the house.
e back to out a bit of se to be a tableclot. I never sac. It made me nervous. e sat togettering fire, and talked in a greo rattle o myself, Dear God, let Gentleman e soon! I t my eye. t made me ya s ucked up and laid o sleep.
ts all to do til truck seven. s o co h her uncle.
S took my dinner in tcs. told me
t, ao read? I asked. let s —fears ss keeps ime in gloves.
ts enougiles. . I sat and t about Mr Lilly, er, ongue; and t Maud, fro would make a girl like .
I t I kne ening to ts talk, not saying muciles asked me, So e and take my pudding ry? I supposed I ougo. I sat gazing at ture made all of every story—t bulls breaking fences, or parsons making iing sermons in ciles s e a match for London, news-wise!
Above sound of laug .
t ruck, and immediately after it ts bell sounded; and t meant t Mr Lilly o be seen by Mr ay into Maud o be put by me into hers.
I almost lost my even so, when she saw me she said,
Is t you, Susan? You are quicker too. I dont think a girl be hand-
some—__do you?— nor her. I
so be dark, Susan!
Sh her supper, and I had had beer. I should
ay ipsy. Sand
beside t silvery glass above her fireplace, and drew my
o o pare the
darker, she said.
to put o gown.
It muccer all. Sood sy as everye. Stripping a lady is eel; , as I t tors speak against, t gives a girl an illness. et, ticoats and s all, and smootter. too soft, I t er its sood in ogs igurned, and looked at o tom, from tatue on a pillar in a park. So pale so shine.
But again, it roubling kind of paleness, and I o cover idied o t and ed, yao e and brush her hair.
do migch.
are you tress? as her hair handsomer?
she walked well. Do I walk well? You do, miss.
S beside o pare them.
Yours is almost as , she said kindly.
S into care to lie in darkness. S in a tin s beside it from t let me tie tains of tle s see into the room beyond.
And you , e close your door? so. I didnt like it, before you came, in a co call touc your toucle.
S o feel t of o button anote pair ba. took ucked . I pulled t perfectly smoot be all, miss?
Yes, Susan, s like t it back, and it snaked aht and dark and slender as a rope.
ook my dle off, t by t tle furtood and rubbed my face. I Briar only a day; but it day of my life. My , now I had undressed her.
At last I sat and ble my dle; and a sound in t in it to ttle t up. I t, ell, I be silent, if you t. I am softer to t of tained bed, and rait of tcrait to , and spoke soft, sad o it. t it from t t to look in t it ly on table— touce, touc tain and ill.
I greoo tired to y room behem; and lay cold as a frog in my own narrow ladys maids bed.
I ot say for t say, knoe or to Mauds room and sa lig I kne dreaming. I , crasant of my opening my eyes, t as I lifted my my beat in a ened voice. She was calling on her old maid:
Agnes! Oh! Oh! Agnes!
I didnt king t t still rattled, e unbroken; and to tains s all bunch her and her
, range. I knes Sue, miss.
S sound? Is t? there? A man? she said. A man? A burglar?
At t go, Agnes! Im afraid ened, s t me try and light a dle.
But ried to lig in a tin s get to cat, il my eady.
I said, You must be quiet, miss. to e and catch him.
I took up t. Dont take t! s once. I beg you, dont!
I said I ake it to to s and clutc t to to open.
t bits of furniture sat , like ts o be murdered by burglars. And o be a man I knew—say, one of Mr Ibbss nep do happen.
So I stood gazing fearfully at to call out—in case t t I of course, t as a d t quickly to to t
was
, too—tig of some clock, far-off and more rattling after all it quite Pleasant, standing in a nig, in a great dark silent , t didnt cer-
tainly s. I closed t baauds oom and closed t door, and stepped to t t down.
Shere?
I to ans topped. For I e te and gleaming, t t I, t Ive a ion? I ain t t to me. My leapt so o my mouto taste it. I screamed, and Maud screamed, tc me and look at me! s leave me! Dont leave me!
And t te t to foot and almost laughed.
For it from t steps he springs bounce.
I sa, as I say, and almost laug o let my beteeto cter. I han ever.
I said, Its noter all, its nothing. You was only dreaming.
Dreaming, Agnes?
S my bosom, and sil she grew calm.
t me put t about you, look.
But wo lay leave me, Agnes! she said again.
I said, Its Sue, miss. Agnes ina, and is gone back to Cork. Remember? You must lie dooo.
S me t ill so dark, seemed yet a little clearer.
Dont leave me, Sue! she whispered. Im afraid, of my own dreaming!
. er. In a feime, I t— if our plot o hen?
So I put only for a moment; and I clambered over bes at my arm about once s me. It seemed t t I could do. I pulled like Mrs Sucksby. Not like Mrs Sucksby, at all. Sill stle, and my t, like featime, opped, and again and till. She grew heavy, and warm.
Good girl, I said, too softly to wake her.
m I e before sroubled, and tried to .
Did my dreams ? s meeting my gaze. Did I say foolis o e and keep me pany!
I didnt tell t eig off to one I to fetg care, time, to mind ting finger on to the river; she sewed, and dozed, and was
rung to iles until nine, ime to go back up and put o bed. It t day, ain. S, and laid ood in my room and tle box unlocked, and peeped to cake up trait, kiss it, t it away.
And t put out my dle tes, before ly: Sue—!
S sleep. So keep me close to ened.
S nig after t. You dont mind? s Mayfair?
could I tell migress and o double up like girls.
It first, , quite like sisters. Quite like sisters, indeed. I aled a sister.
tleman came.
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