LORD OAKBURN’S DAUGHTERS.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE."
CHAPTER V.WAS THE HOUSE HAUNTED?
The moon shone brightly on the long street of South Wennock, as Mr. Carlton the surgeon stepped along it with a fleet foot. He was on his way to the house in Palace Street, number thirteen.
The widow herself came to the door in answer to his ring. She dropped a curtsey when she saw who stood there.
“Is this Mrs. Gould’s?”
“Yes, sir; if you please, sir. I am Mrs. Gould, sir.”
“I have just opened a note, on my return from London; one that was left at my house a day or two ago; requesting me to call here to see a patient,” said Mr. Carlton. “A Mrs.—Mrs.———
“Mrs. Crane, sir,” said the widow, supplying the name for which Mr. Carlton appeared at fault. “It’s all happily over, sir, and she is doing well.”
Mr. Carlton stared at her as if he were thunderstruck. “Over!” he repeated. “Happily over! Why she-I understood—if I read her note aright—did not expect it for two months to come!”
“No more she didn’t, sir, and it was all that omnibus’s doings. It pretty near shook the life out of her.”
“Omnibus!” he returned, seeming completely at sea. “What omnibus? what are talking of?”
“Perhaps you don’t know the circumstances yet, sir,” returned the widow. “The lady arrived here from London, sir, a stranger, and was recommended by Mrs. Fitch to my apartments. So young, she looked, quite a girl———"
“But about her illness?” interposed Mr. Carlton, whose time was being wasted.
“I was coming to it, sir. Afore she had well done her tea that same evening, she got ill: the omnibus had shook her frightfully, she said—and you know what that omnibus is yourself, sir. Instead of getting better she got worse, and early the next morning the baby was born. Such a mite of a baby, sir!” added Mrs. Gould in a confidential tone. “I have seen many a wax-doll bigger.”
A conviction came into the surgeon’s mind that the mite of a baby he had seen at Great Wennock Station, that evening, must be the one in question. “Who attended?” he inquired.
“Mr. Stephen Grey. But he only attended for you, sir, I believe, as the lady wished to have you. She had been recommended to you.”
“Recommended to me!”
“Well, yes, sir; we understood her to say so. She’ll explain to you herself, no doubt. Of course, we can’t but think the circumstances altogether are somewhat strange.”
“Is she doing well?”
“Couldn’t be doing better. Will you walk up, sir?”
The colloquy had taken place at the open door; the widow standing inside, Mr. Carlton out. He made a movement to enter, but stopped in hesitation.
“It is late to disturb her to-night. She may be asleep.”
“She is not asleep, sir. Leastways she wasn’t five minutes ago, when I went up to get Pepperfly down to her supper, which she’s now having with me in the kitchen. I daresay she’d like you to go up, sir, and to know that you are back again.”
Ho went in, leaving his hat on the stand that stood in the passage. Mrs. Gould ran briskly towards the kitchen.
“Just one moment, sir, while I get a light, for there’s none upstairs,” she said in a tone of apology for leaving him waiting. “When the nurse came down Mrs. Crane sent the candle away by her, saying she’d rather be without it.”
Passing the parlour door and the room behind it—which room was a bed-chamber, and Mrs. Gould took the opportunity of sleeping in it when her permanent lodger was absent—she tripped into the kitchen, a very small apartment built out at the back, seized the candle on the table, by which Mrs. Pepperfly was eating her supper, unceremoniously left that lady in the dark, and was back in an instant to marshal Mr. Carlton up the stairs. Arrived at the door of the sitting room, he took the light from her hand.
“That will do, thank you, Mrs. Gould,” he said, sinking his voice to a whisper. “I had better go in alone. She may have dropped asleep.”
Mrs. Gould was nothing loth to be dismissed. She had been disturbed at her supper and was glad to return to it. In consequence of her having gone to church that evening, the meal was being taken later than usual. She closed the door on Mr. Carlton, leaving him alone.
He passed through the sitting-room, softly