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that moment； and must stand on ceremony。 Delicate minds will understand
why I accepted the check she had administered to me； and said no more。
I went into the village alone。 Managing matters so as to excite no
surprise； I contrived to have a little gossip about Nugent with
Gootheridge at the inn； and with the servant at Browndown。 If Nugent had
returned secretly to Dimchurch； one of those two men； in our little
village； must almost certainly have seen him。 Neither of them had seen
him。
I inferred from this that he had not tried to communicate with her
personally。 Had he attempted it （more cunningly and more safely） by
letter？
I went back to the rectory。 It was close on the hour which I had
appointed with Lucillanow that the responsibility rested on my
shouldersfor allowing her to use her eyes。 On taking off the bandage； I
noticed a circumstance which confirmed the conclusion at which I had
already arrived。 Her eyes deliberately avoided looking into mine。
Suppressing as well as I could the pain which this new discovery caused
me； I repeated Grosse's words； prohibiting her from attempting to look
into a book； or to use a pen； until he had seen her again。
〃There is no need for him to forbid me to do that；〃 she said。
〃Have you attempted it already？〃 I inquired。
〃I looked into a little book of engravings；〃 she answered。 〃But I could
distinguish nothing。 The lines all mingled together and swam before my
eyes。〃
〃Have you tried to write？〃 I asked next。 （I was ashamed of myself for
laying that trap for heralthough the serious necessity of discovering
whether she was privately in correspondence with Nugent； might surely
have excused it？）
〃No；〃 she replied。 〃I have not tried to write。〃
She changed color when she made that answer。 It is necessary to own that；
in putting my question； I was too much excited to call to mind； what I
should have remembered in a calmer state。 There was no necessity for her
trying to use her eyeseven if she was really carrying on a
correspondence which she wished to keep secret from me。 Zillah had been
in the habit of reading her letters to her； before I appeared at the
rectory； and she could write short notes （as I have already mentioned） by
feeling her way on the paper with her finger。 Besides； having learnt to
read by touch （that is to say with raised characters）； just as she had
learnt to writeeven if her eyes had been sufficiently recovered to
enable her to distinguish small objects； nothing but practice could have
taught her to use them for purposes of correspondence。
These considerations； though they did not strike me at the time； occurred
to me later in the day； and altered my opinion to a certain extent。 I now
interpreted the change of color which I had noticed in her as the outward
sign of suspicion on her sidesuspicion that I had a motive of my own in
interrogating her。 For the rest； my doubts of Nugent remained unmoved。
Try as I might； I could not divest my mind of the idea that he was
playing me false； and that in one way or another he had contrived； not
only to communicate with Lucilla； but to persuade her to keep me in
ignorance of what he had done。
I deferred to the next day any attempt at making further discoveries。
The last thing at night； I had a momentary impulse to question Zillah。
Reflection soon checked it。 My experience of the nurse's character told
me that she would take refuge in flat denialand would then inform her
mistress of what had happened。 I knew enough of Lucilla to know （after
what had already passed between us） that a quarrel with me would follow。
Things were bad enough already； without making them worse in that way。
When the morning came； I resolved to keep a watchful eye on the village
post…office； and on the movements of the nurse。
When the morning came； there was a letter for me from abroad。
The address was in the handwriting of one of my sisters。 We usually wrote
to each other at intervals of a fortnight or three weeks。 This letter had
followed its predecessor after an interval of less than one week。 What
did it mean？ Good news or bad？
I opened the letter。
It enclosed a telegram； announcing that my poor dear father was lying
dangerously wounded at Marseilles。 My sisters had already gone to him：
they implored me to follow them without one moment of needless delay。 Is
it necessary to tell the story of this horrible calamity？ Of course it
begins with a woman and an elopement。 Of course it ends with a young man
and a duel。 Have I not told you already？Papa was so susceptible； Papa
was so brave。 Oh； dear； dear！ the old story over again。 You have an
English proverb： 〃What is bred in the bone〃 etcetera； etcetera。 Let us
drop the veil。 I mean； let us end the chapter。
CHAPTER THE FORTY…FIRST
A Hard Time for Madame Pratolungo
OUGHT I to have been prepared for the calamity which had now fallen on my
sisters and myself？ If I had looked my own experience of my poor father
fairly in the face； would it not have been plain to me that the habits of
a life were not likely to be altered at the end of a life？ Surelyif I
had exerted my intelligenceI might have foreseen that the longer his
reformation lasted； the nearer he was to a relapse； and the more
obviously probable it became that he would fail to fulfill the hopeful
expectations which I had cherished of his conduct in the future？ I grant
it all。 But where are the pattern people who can exert their
intelligencewhen their intelligence points to one conclusion； and their
interests to another？ Ah； my dear ladies and gentlemen； there is such a
fine strong foundation of stupidity at the bottom of our common
humanityif we only knew it！
I could feel no hesitationas soon as I had recovered myselfabout what
it was my duty to do。 My duty was to leave Dimchurch in time to catch the
fast mail…train from London to the Continent； at eight o'clock that
night。
And leave Lucilla？
Yes！ not even Lucilla's interestsdearly as I loved her； alarmed as I
felt about herwere as sacred as the interests which called me to my
father's bedside。 I had some hours to spare before it would be necessary
for me to leave her。 All I could do was to employ those hours in taking
the strictest precautions I could think of to protect her in my absence。
I could not be long parted from her。 One way or the other； the miserable
doubt whether my father would live or die； would； at his age； soon be
over。
I sent for her to see me in my room； and showed her my letter。
She was honestly grieved when she read it。 For a momentwhen she spoke
her few words of sympathythe painful constraint in her manner towards
me passed away。 It returned again； when I announced my intention of
starting for France that day； and expressed the regret I felt at being
obliged to defer our visit to Ramsgate for the present。 She not only
answered restrainedly （forming； as I fancied； some thought at the moment
in her own mind）she left me； with a commonplace excuse。 〃You must have
much to think of in this sad affliction： I won't intrude on you any
longer。 If you want me； you know where to find me。〃 With no more than
those words； she walked out of the room。
I never remember； at any other time； such a sense of helplessness and
confusion as came over me when she had closed the door。 I set to work to
pack up the few things I wanted for the journey； feeling instinctively
that if I did not occupy myself in doing something； I should break down
altogether。 Accustomed in all the other emergencies of my life； to decide
rapidly； I was not even clear enough in my mind to see the facts as they
were。 As to resolving on anything； I was about as capable of doing that
as the baby in Mrs。 Finch's arms。
The effort of packing aided me to rally a littlebut did no more towards
restoring me to my customary tone of mind。
I sat down helplessly； when I had done； feeling the serious necessity of
clearing matters up between Lucilla and myself； before I went away； and
still as ignorant as ever how to do it。 To my own indescribable disgust；
I actually felt tears beginning to find their way into my eyes！ I had
just enough of Pratolungo's widow left in me to feel heartily ashamed of
myself。 Past vicissitudes and dangers； in the days of my republican life
with my husband； had made me a sturdy walkerwith a gypsy relish （like
my little Jicks） for the open air。 I snatched up my hat； and went out； to
see what exercise would do for me。
I tried the garden。 No！ the garden was （for some inscrutable reason） not
big enough。 I had still some hours to spare。 I tried the hills next。
Turning towards the left； and passing the church； I heard through the
open windows the _boom…boom_ of Reverend Finch's voice； catechizing the
village children。 Thank Heaven； he was out of my way at any rate！ I
mounted the hills； hurrying on as fast as I could。 The air and the
movement cleared my mind。 After more than an hour of hard walking； I
returned to the rectory； feeling like my old self again。
Perhaps； there were some dregs of irresolution still left in me。 Or；
perhaps； there was some enervating influence in my affliction； which made
me feel more sensitively than ever the change in the relati