by L. T. Meade
and I was by the window wondering how I could pass thehours and bear the pain in my back and down my legs, when there came aloud, impertinent sort of ring at the bell of the front door, and Iwondered who that could be. I heard Mercy parleying with some one inthe hall, and after a bit, in she walked and said that a girl wanted tosee me, and that she knew you. Oh, dear, I thought for sure she'd cometo tell me that you couldn't come, and the same thought must have beenin Mercy's mind, for her eyes looked quite dazed. So I said: `Mercy,show her in,' and in she came, as awkward a creature as you could clapyour eyes on. Will you believe me, my dear, she wasn't more than halfinside the room before she bumped against my little table with myprecious silver ornaments, and knocked some of them over, and it was aprovidence that they weren't injured. Then, she came right in front ofme, and asked me if I didn't want some one to read to me. Never wasthere a queerer creature. When I questioned her whether she had broughta message from you, she said she hadn't, and that she came herself, tosee me, and that she was living in Mrs Hogg's cottage--Mary Hogg'scottage; that widow that I have so often told you about, the one whodoes my washing, by the way. You may be quite sure I was pretty wellexcited and angry when she said that, and I sent her away double quick;but it's my certain sure opinion that she is the very girl you arelooking for. I am as sure of it as that my name is Margaret Johnston."
CHAPTER THIRTY.
FOUND AT LAST.
Angela did not quite know how she got out of the house. There was somefuss and some regret on the part of Mrs Johnston, and Mercy very nearlycried, but at last she did get away. She stepped into her littlecarriage, and drove down the road and went straight as fast as shepossibly could to Mrs Hogg's cottage.
Mrs Hogg was still busy over her washing, but she had come to thewringing stage, and the steam was not quite so thick in the kitchen, andcertainly her face, flushed and tired as it was, quite beamed when shesaw Angela.
"Dear, dear, Miss Angela, you mustn't come in. 'Tain't a fit place toput your dainty, beautiful feet into, 'tain't really, Miss."
"Will you come and speak to me here for a minute, Mrs Hogg?" saidAngela, and she waited in the tiny porch.
Mrs Hogg came out.
"You have a girl staying with you, haven't you?"
"Oh, dear me, Miss, so I have, a young girl--I don't know nothing abouther, not even her name, nor a single thing. It was Mary, my daughter,sent her. She's nothing but a fuss and a worry, and that touchy abouther food as never was, turning up her nose at good red herring and atpease pudding, and dumplings, and what more can a poor woman give, I'dlike to know?"
"You are sure you don't know her name?"
"No, Miss. She's a very queer girl."
"Is she--you understand those sort of things, Mrs Hogg--is she, in youropinion, a young lady?"
"Handsome is as handsome does," was Mrs Hogg's rejoinder, "and to myway o' thinking--to be frank with you--Miss, she ain't."
This was rather a damper to Angela's hopes, but after a minute shereflected that probably Nesta was a rough specimen of the genus Lady,and that at any rate it was her duty to follow up this clue to the end.
"I should like to see her," she said. "Where is she now?"
"Oh, Miss, if I thought, even for a single moment, that she was a friendof yourn, I'd treat her very different; but all she did was to stand inthe middle of my kitchen on Saturday--"
"On Saturday?" said Angela.
"Yes; Miss, on Saturday, and she says as bold as brass--`Mary Hogg sentme.' That was her; but if I'd known--"
"Where is she now?" said Angela:
"I gave her a bit of dinner when she came in all flustered and angry,forsooth, because poor old Mrs Johnston hadn't been given a stroke ofblindness--that seemed to put her out more than anything else. She musthave a most malicious mind--that is, according to my way of thinking.Well, anyhow, Miss, I gave her a bit of dinner when she came in, and Itold her to take it out and eat it. I don't know from Adam where she isnow."
"She would go, perhaps, into the country?"
"Well, Miss, perhaps she would. Would you like Ben and Dan to go alongand look for her!"
"I wish they would," said Angela.
Ben and Dan were rotated out of their lairs in the back part of thepremises, and were only too charmed to do Angela's bidding. They flewoff, fleet as a pair of little hares, down the shady lanes, looking invain for Nesta.
But it was Angela herself who at last found her. She had decided not todrive in her carriage, for the sound of wheels, and the rhythmic beat ofthe ponies' feet might startle the girl, and if she really meant tohide, might make her hide all the more securely. No, she would walk.So she gathered up her white skirt and walked down the summer lanes.By-and-by she thought she heard a noise which was different from thesong of the birds, and the rushing of the waters, and the varied hum ofinnumerable bees. She stood quite still. It was the sound of distress,it was a sob, and the sob seemed to come from the throat of a girl.Angela stepped very softly. She went over the long grass and came to atree, and at the foot of that tree lay a girl, her face downward, herwhole figure shaken with sobs. Angela laid her hand on her.
"Why, Nesta!" she said. "How silly of Nesta to be afraid."
The words were so unexpected that Nesta jumped to her feet; then coveredher face, then flung herself face downwards again and sobbed morepiteously than ever.
"I have found you, Nesta, and nobody is going to be in the least bitangry with you. May I sit by you for a little?"
"You are Miss St Just--you are the person everybody worships and makesa fuss over. I don't want you. Go away."
"I am sorry you don't want me, but I am not going away. I am going tostay by you; may I?"
Nesta could not refuse. Angela sat down. Ben and Dan peeped theirround childish faces over the top of the hedge and saw Angela sitting byNesta's side.
"Hooray!" said Ben.
"Hurroa!" said Dan.
Angela turned.
"Go back to your mother, boys. Here is a penny for you, Dan, andanother for you, Ben. Go back to your mother, and say that I have foundmy friend, Miss Nesta Aldworth, and am taking her back to CastleWalworth."
This was a most awe-inspiring message; the boys, young as they were,understood some of its grand import. They rushed presently into theirmother's cottage.
"You be a little flat, mammy!" they said. "Why, the gel you give redherrings to, and no butter, is a friend of our Miss Angela's."
"The Lord forgive me!" said Mrs Hogg, and she forgot all about herwashing, and sat down on the first chair she could find, and let herbroad toil-worn hands spread themselves out one on each knee.
"The Lord forgive me!" she said at intervals.
Ben was deeply touched. He went and bought some fruit with his pennyand pressed it on his mother, but she scarcely seemed to see it.
"To think as I complained to her of robbing me of half my rightfulbedclothes," was her next remark. "May I see myself in my true light inthe future. How could I tell? How _could_ I tell?"
But down by the stream a very different scene was being enacted; forAngela, having given her message to the boys, did not say anything morefor a long time. Nesta waited for her to speak. At first Nesta wasangry at being, as she expressed it, caught. She had not thatworshipful attitude towards Angela St Just that all the other girls ofthe neighbourhood seemed to feel. She rather despised her, and did notat all wish to be in her company. But then that was because she hadnever before been in close contact with Angela. But now that Angelagave that remarkable message, that respect-restoring message to theboys, it seemed to Nesta that a healing balm, sweet as honey itself, hadbeen poured over her troubled heart. She could not help liking it; shecould not help reflecting over it. A friend of Angela's, and she was togo back with her to Castle Walworth.
After a little she raised her head again and peeped at her companion.How pretty Angela looked in her white dress, with her perfect littleprofile, the dark lashes partly shading her cheeks. She was lo
okingdown; she was thinking. Her lips were moving. Perhaps she was a realangel--perhaps she was praying. Very much the same sort of feeling asshe had inspired in the breast of Penelope Carter, began now to dawn inthat of Nesta, and yet Nesta had a far harder and more difficult naturethan Penelope. All the same Nesta was touched. She reflected on thedifference between herself and this young lady, and yet Angela hadspoken of her as her friend. Then suddenly, she did not know why--Nestatouched Angela on the arm. The moment she did this Angela turned.Quick as thought her soft eyes looked full into Nesta's face.
"Oh, you poor child, you poor child!" she said, and then she swept
