The Third Miss St Quentin

by Mrs. Molesworth

quiet, Philip," said Madelene in a tone almost of entreaty."She is much too young, and--by the time there is any prospect of herbeing provided for, it will be too late for me."

  Sir Philip gave a sort of grunt, which did not express assent, but hesaid no more.

  "It is cold in here," said Madelene. "Come back to the library."

  "I must be going," he replied. "You have letters to write I know, andif Ella is to be shut-up at her lessons all the afternoon, the prospectis not lively." Then Ella heard them leave the room.

  With a rush there came over her the realisation of what she had beendoing--"Listening!" Her face grew scarlet with shame but not for long.

  "I could not have helped it," she thought with a kind of defiance."Their very first words were about me: I should never have known thetruth had I interrupted them. And at all costs it was best to know it.Now I need have no hesitation. I will not stay another night here--theyshall never be troubled by me again."

  Her face glowed as she recalled some of the expressions she hadoverheard. Then again she felt perplexed at certain allusions she couldnot explain. What did Madelene mean by speaking of "financial"complications?

  "We are all three sisters; it isn't as if one of us were a son," shethought. "Even if most is to go to Madelene as the eldest, papa iscertainly rich enough to provide well for Ermine and me too. Not that Iwant their money--I shall let them see that. I don't in the least mindearning my own living, and I am sure I am able to do so. I should thankpapa, I suppose, for having made me work hard since I have been here.It is as if he had foreseen it." Then her thoughts took another turn.Who was "Omar"? Some one that Madelene was to marry, or would havemarried already, it appeared, but for her, Ella's, unlucky advent.

  "Everything of course, everything unfortunate is put upon my shoulders,"she reflected bitterly. "Still Madelene _means_ to be good andunselfish, I do believe. She shall not be sacrificed to me. And whenshe is married to this Mr Omar, whoever he is, and Ermine to SirPhilip, I _don't_ think they will have much to reproach me with, `soresubject' though I am."

  She sat still for a moment or two till she felt a little more collected.Then she crept quietly up stairs to her own room, locked the door byway of precaution and set to work.

  All her belongings were together and in neat order. "It will be quiteeasy for any one to pack everything up," she thought. Then she dressedherself in her warmest clothes, put a few things into a bag not tooheavy for her to carry, and when all was ready, sat down to write a fewwords, which, as is the fashion of heroines in such circumstances, shefastened conspicuously to her toilet pincushion. The note was addressedto Miss St Quentin and contained these words:--

  "I overheard what you and Sir Philip were talking about in thedrawing-room; I know it was dishonourable to listen, but I could nothelp it, after the first. It is not my fault that I have been such asore trouble to you hitherto, but it would be if I stayed here, knowingbetter now. I will write to you when my plans are settled, but it isn'tany use sending after me, as I am not going anywhere you know. I hopeyou will be very happy--and I hope Ermine will be very happy too.Please tell papa I see now how wise it was to make me go on with mylessons.

  "Your affectionate sister,--

  "Ella Marcia St Quentin."

  Then Ella made her way quietly down stairs, and out by a side-door. Shemet no one, and keeping as long as possible in the shade of theshrubberies, she gained the lodge, then the outer gates, a quarter of amile further off, finding herself finally on the high road to Coombe.She knew her way quite well, though it was now growing dusk. She knewtoo what she meant to do, so she walked on without hesitating.

  "I have nearly three pounds in my purse," she reflected. "That will do.But I must get on as fast as I can. I don't suppose Madelene will missme till about five o'clock; it must be almost that now, and if they sentalong the road they might overtake me."

  She hastened her steps; there was a short cut to Coombe through thelanes, which she knew, and by walking very fast, she reached herdestination without risk of being overtaken.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

  A DECIDED STEP.

  Fraulein Braune was sitting in her modest lodging over the Coombepost-office when the door opened and the maid-servant announced avisitor. The good lady started up in surprise, but before she had timeto greet the new-comer, the latter cautiously shut the door, and thenhastened towards her exclaiming as she threw off her hat and veil.

  "It is I, Fraulein, Ella St Quentin. I have come to ask you a greatfavour. Will you let me stay with you for to-night? I have left myhome and I don't want them to know where I am just yet. Next week--assoon as I am settled--I shall write to them, but not yet. I mustfirst--"

  "You have run away from home," interrupted the governess. "Oh, my dearMiss Ella, that is a sad step to take! Think how frightened they willall be."

  "No," said Ella, "I have taken care of that. And I had the bestreasons. There has been no quarrel, but I have found out that I am agreat burden and trouble to them all. It will be an immense relief tothem. I cannot explain all without telling you what I have no right totell, but you must believe what I say. It is not as if I had beenbrought up at home. I have only been with them about eight months: theywill soon forget I have been there at all and everything will getstraight now I have left."

  Ella spoke so fast and decidedly that for a moment or two FrauleinBraune felt confused and bewildered. But though timid and gentle shewas a woman of considerable common-sense. She saw that for the momentat least, there was no use in arguing with the girl.

  "And what do you propose to do then, my dear?" she said. "Where willyou go to-morrow when you leave this--if--if it is arranged for you tostay here to-night?"

  Ella looked at her for a moment or two without speaking.

  "Fraulein," she said, "you must be candid with me. I came to youbecause I thought I could trust you. But if I am mistaken, if youintend to do anything towards making me go home again, or telling mypeople where I am, then I tell you plainly I will go away from thishouse at once leaving no trace of myself, and neither you nor any onewill be able to find me again, I warn you."

  The governess considered a moment. Ella looked resolute and probablymeant what she said.

  "What do you want me to promise you, my dear?" Fraulein Braune saidquietly.

  "That you will not--you must give me your word of honour that you willnot--tell any of my people anything about me till or unless I give youleave."

  "Very well," Fraulein Braune replied. "I give you my promise. There islittle fear but that they will be able to find her at once if they thinkit best to set to work vigorously," she reflected. "And anything isbetter than that she should be seen running about by herself, or thatshe should take some foolish step through her inexperience--I give youmy promise," she repeated.

  Ella looked relieved.

  "Then," she said. "I will tell you my plan," and she proceeded to doso.

  When she had finished, she looked up at the German lady inquiringly.

  "It is not a bad plan?" she asked. "There is nothing wild and sillyabout it."

  "No," Fraulein Braune replied, "I don't know that there is if, that isto say, your leaving your home is absolutely unavoidable. But, my dearMiss Ella, one thing I must insist upon. I will go to London with youto-morrow. I cannot let you travel alone."

  "I'm not the least afraid of travelling alone," began Ella hastily, "andI have the exact address. And--it will cost a good deal, Fraulein, evenif we go second-class and--I haven't much money."

  "You shall repay me some day," said the good governess, "but that I gowith you is decided. It must be--on every account."

  Ella sighed.

  "It is very kind of you," she said, "but I wish you wouldn't."

  There was determination however, as well as kindness in FrauleinBraune's grey eyes. Ella had to give in.

  She shared her friend's evening meal, though not daring to eat as muchas she was inclined to do, when she s
aw how very modest it was. Shewould not allow the governess to give up her bed to her, as she wished,but insisted on spending the night with the aid of a pillow or two, onthe little hair-covered sofa in the sitting-room. It was not verycomfortable, she owned to herself, when Fraulein Braune had left her,_very_ much less so than the cosy bed in the despised "nursery" atCoombesthorpe. And she was hungry too, really hungry, for she had hadno luncheon to speak of, no afternoon tea at all, a very long walk inthe cold and only enough supper to whet her hearty girlish appetite!

  "I must get used to it," she said to herself. "I can't expect more thanthe bare necessaries