to come to shame."
"But she will then be forced to clear herself. That, at any rate, will
be a good thing."
"Very well, very well! I am heart-sick of the whole business. Come,
Alice, come up to the babies they'll be in a sore way. I tell you,
uncle!" he said, turning round once more to Mr. Chadwick, suddenly and
sharply, after his eye had fallen on Alice's wan, tearful, anxious face;
"I'll have none sending for the police after all. I'll buy my aunt twice
as handsome a brooch this very day; but I'll not have Norah suspected,
and my missus plagued. There's for you."
He and his wife left the room. Mr. Chadwick quietly waited till he was
out of hearing, and then aid to his wife; "For all Tom's heroics, I'm
just quietly going for a detective, wench. Thou need'st know nought
about it."
He went to the police-station, and made a statement of the case. He was
gratified by the impression which the evidence against Norah seemed to
make. The men all agreed in his opinion, and steps were to be
immediately taken to find out where she was. Most probably, as they
suggested, she had gone at once to the man, who, to all appearance, was
her lover. When Mr. Chadwick asked how they would find her out? they
smiled, shook their heads, and spoke of mysterious but infallible ways
and means. He returned to his nephew's house with a very comfortable
opinion of his own sagacity. He was met by his wife with a penitent
face:
"O master, I've found my brooch! It was just sticking by its pin in the
flounce of my brown silk, that I wore yesterday. I took it off in a
hurry, and it must have caught in it; and I hung up my gown in the
closet. Just now, when I was going to fold it up, there was the brooch!
I'm very vexed, but I never dreamt but what it was lost!"
Her husband muttering something very like "Confound thee and thy brooch
too! I wish I'd never given it thee," snatched up his hat, and rushed
back to the station; hoping to be in time to stop the police from
searching for Norah. But a detective was already gone off on the errand.
Where was Norah? Half mad with the strain of the fearful secret, she had
hardly slept through the night for thinking what must be done. Upon this
terrible state of mind had come Ailsie's questions, showing that she had
seen the Man, as the unconscious child called her father. Lastly came
the suspicion of her honesty. She was little less than crazy as she ran
up-stairs and dashed on her bonnet and shawl; leaving all else, even her
purse, behind her. In that house she would not stay. That was all she
knew or was clear about. She would not even see the children again, for
fear it should weaken her. She feared above everything Mr. Frank's
return to claim his wife. She could not tell what remedy there was for a
sorrow so tremendous, for her to stay to witness. The desire of escaping
from the coming event was a stronger motive for her departure than her
soreness about the suspicions directed against her; although this last
had been the final goad to the course she took. She walked away almost
at headlong speed; sobbing as she went, as she had not dared to do during
the past night for fear of exciting wonder in those who might hear her.
Then she stopped. An idea came into her mind that she would leave London
altogether, and betake herself to her native town of Liverpool. She felt
in her pocket for her purse, as she drew near the Euston Square station
with this intention. She had left it at home. Her poor head aching, her
eyes swollen with crying, she had to stand still, and think, as well as
she could, where next she should bend her steps. Suddenly the thought
flashed into her mind that she would go and find out poor Mr. Frank. She
had been hardly kind to him the night before, though her heart had bled
for him ever since. She remembered his telling her as she inquired for
his address, almost as she had pushed him out of the door, of some hotel
in a street not far distant from Euston Square. Thither she went: with
what intention
"But she will then be forced to clear herself. That, at any rate, will
be a good thing."
"Very well, very well! I am heart-sick of the whole business. Come,
Alice, come up to the babies they'll be in a sore way. I tell you,
uncle!" he said, turning round once more to Mr. Chadwick, suddenly and
sharply, after his eye had fallen on Alice's wan, tearful, anxious face;
"I'll have none sending for the police after all. I'll buy my aunt twice
as handsome a brooch this very day; but I'll not have Norah suspected,
and my missus plagued. There's for you."
He and his wife left the room. Mr. Chadwick quietly waited till he was
out of hearing, and then aid to his wife; "For all Tom's heroics, I'm
just quietly going for a detective, wench. Thou need'st know nought
about it."
He went to the police-station, and made a statement of the case. He was
gratified by the impression which the evidence against Norah seemed to
make. The men all agreed in his opinion, and steps were to be
immediately taken to find out where she was. Most probably, as they
suggested, she had gone at once to the man, who, to all appearance, was
her lover. When Mr. Chadwick asked how they would find her out? they
smiled, shook their heads, and spoke of mysterious but infallible ways
and means. He returned to his nephew's house with a very comfortable
opinion of his own sagacity. He was met by his wife with a penitent
face:
"O master, I've found my brooch! It was just sticking by its pin in the
flounce of my brown silk, that I wore yesterday. I took it off in a
hurry, and it must have caught in it; and I hung up my gown in the
closet. Just now, when I was going to fold it up, there was the brooch!
I'm very vexed, but I never dreamt but what it was lost!"
Her husband muttering something very like "Confound thee and thy brooch
too! I wish I'd never given it thee," snatched up his hat, and rushed
back to the station; hoping to be in time to stop the police from
searching for Norah. But a detective was already gone off on the errand.
Where was Norah? Half mad with the strain of the fearful secret, she had
hardly slept through the night for thinking what must be done. Upon this
terrible state of mind had come Ailsie's questions, showing that she had
seen the Man, as the unconscious child called her father. Lastly came
the suspicion of her honesty. She was little less than crazy as she ran
up-stairs and dashed on her bonnet and shawl; leaving all else, even her
purse, behind her. In that house she would not stay. That was all she
knew or was clear about. She would not even see the children again, for
fear it should weaken her. She feared above everything Mr. Frank's
return to claim his wife. She could not tell what remedy there was for a
sorrow so tremendous, for her to stay to witness. The desire of escaping
from the coming event was a stronger motive for her departure than her
soreness about the suspicions directed against her; although this last
had been the final goad to the course she took. She walked away almost
at headlong speed; sobbing as she went, as she had not dared to do during
the past night for fear of exciting wonder in those who might hear her.
Then she stopped. An idea came into her mind that she would leave London
altogether, and betake herself to her native town of Liverpool. She felt
in her pocket for her purse, as she drew near the Euston Square station
with this intention. She had left it at home. Her poor head aching, her
eyes swollen with crying, she had to stand still, and think, as well as
she could, where next she should bend her steps. Suddenly the thought
flashed into her mind that she would go and find out poor Mr. Frank. She
had been hardly kind to him the night before, though her heart had bled
for him ever since. She remembered his telling her as she inquired for
his address, almost as she had pushed him out of the door, of some hotel
in a street not far distant from Euston Square. Thither she went: with
what intention
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