The Third Miss St Quentin

“It would simplify matters of course; that is to say if it was for her happiness,” said Madelene, half reluctantly, it seemed to Ella.

“I should rather think it would. Why then Omar might take up his quarters here for good. He would be a perfect right-hand to Uncle Marcus. I can understand your feeling that with Ella here it might not be a pleasant or natural position for him. Uncle Marcus scarcely counts as a third person – he is so much in his own room.”

“Philip, don’t talk about it,” said Madelene decidedly. “You almost seem to want to tempt me into wishing Ella away. Very certainly with both her and my father in a sense on my hands I have no right to undertake other ties. And if both Ermine and I married, it would complicate matters financially, you know.”

“Yes, I do know,” said Philip, “and I repeat what I said. It would be a very good thing if Ella – ”

“Oh, do be quiet, Philip,” said Madelene in a tone almost of entreaty. “She is much too young, and – by the time there is any prospect of her being provided for, it will be too late for me.”

Sir Philip gave a sort of grunt, which did not express assent, but he said 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, and if Ella is to be shut-up at her lessons all the afternoon, the prospect is not lively.” Then Ella heard them leave the room.

With a rush there came over her the realisation of what she had been doing – “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 the truth 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 – they shall never be troubled by me again.”

Her face glowed as she recalled some of the expressions she had overheard. Then again she felt perplexed at certain allusions she could not 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,” she thought. “Even if most is to go to Madelene as the eldest, papa is certainly rich enough to provide well for Ermine and me too. Not that I want their money – I shall let them see that. I don’t in the least mind earning my own living, and I am sure I am able to do so. I should thank papa, 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 have married 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 and unselfish, I do believe. She shall not be sacrificed to me. And when she is married to this Mr Omar, whoever he is, and Ermine to Sir Philip, I don’t think they will have much to reproach me with, ‘sore subject’ 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 by way of precaution and set to work.

All her belongings were together and in neat order. “It will be quite easy for any one to pack everything up,” she thought. Then she dressed herself in her warmest clothes, put a few things into a bag not too heavy for her to carry, and when all was ready, sat down to write a few words, which, as is the fashion of heroines in such circumstances, she fastened conspicuously to her toilet pincushion. The note was addressed to Miss St Quentin and contained these words: —

“I overheard what you and Sir Philip were talking about in the drawing-room; I know it was dishonourable to listen, but I could not help it, after the first. It is not my fault that I have been such a sore trouble to you hitherto, but it would be if I stayed here, knowing better now. I will write to you when my plans are settled, but it isn’t any use sending after me, as I am not going anywhere you know. I hope you 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 my lessons.

“Your affectionate sister, —

“Ella Marcia St Quentin.”

Then Ella made her way quietly down stairs, and out by a side-door. She met no one, and keeping as long as possible in the shade of the shrubberies, she gained the lodge, then the outer gates, a quarter of a mile further off, finding herself finally on the high road to Coombe. She knew her way quite well, though it was now growing dusk. She knew too 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 miss me till about five o’clock; it must be almost that now, and if they sent along the road they might overtake me.”

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

Chapter Eighteen

A Decided Step

Fräulein Braune was sitting in her modest lodging over the Coombe post-office when the door opened and the maid-servant announced a visitor. The good lady started up in surprise, but before she had time to greet the new-comer, the latter cautiously shut the door, and then hastened towards her exclaiming as she threw off her hat and veil.

“It is I, Fräulein, Ella St Quentin. I have come to ask you a great favour. Will you let me stay with you for to-night? I have left my home and I don’t want them to know where I am just yet. Next week – as soon as I am settled – I shall write to them, but not yet. I must first – ”

“You have run away from home,” interrupted the governess. “Oh, my dear Miss Ella, that is a sad step to take! Think how frightened they will all be.”

“No,” said Ella, “I have taken care of that. And I had the best reasons. There has been no quarrel, but I have found out that I am a great burden and trouble to them all. It will be an immense relief to them. I cannot explain all without telling you what I have no right to tell, but you must believe what I say. It is not as if I had been brought up at home. I have only been with them about eight months: they will soon forget I have been there at all and everything will get straight now I have left.”

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

“And what do you propose to do then, my dear?” she said. “Where will you go to-morrow when you leave this – if – if it is arranged for you to stay here to-night?”

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

“Fräulein,” she said, “you must be candid with me. I came to you because I thought I could trust you. But if I am mistaken, if you intend to do anything towards making me go home again, or telling my people where I am, then I tell you plainly I will go away from this house at once leaving no trace of myself, and neither you nor any one will be able to find me again, I warn you.”

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

“What do you want me to promise you, my dear?” Fräulein Braune said quietly.

“That you will not – you must give me your word of honour that you will not – tell any of my people anything about me till or unless I give you leave.”

“Very well,” Fräulein Braune replied. “I give you my promise. There is little fear but that they will be able to find her at once if they think it best to set to work vigorously,” she reflected. “And anything is better than that she should be seen running about by herself, or that she should take some foolish step through her inexperience – I give you my promise,” she repeated.

Ella looked relieved.

“Then,” she said. “I will tell you my plan,” and she proceeded to do so.

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 silly about it.”

“No,” Fräulein Braune replied, “I don’t know that there is if, that is to say, your leaving your home is absolutely unavoidable. But, my dear Miss Ella, one thing I must insist upon. I will go to London with you to-morrow. I cannot let you travel alone.”

“I’m not the least afraid of travelling alone,” began Ella hastily, “and I have the exact address. And – it will cost a good deal, Fräulein, even if we go second-class and – I haven’t much money.”

“You shall repay me some day,” said the good governess, “but that I go with 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 Fräulein Braune’s grey eyes. Ella had to give in.

She shared her friend’s evening meal, though not daring to eat as much as she was inclined to do, when she saw how very modest it was. She would 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, on the little hair-covered sofa in the sitting-room. It was not very comfortable, she owned to herself, when Fräulein Braune had left her, very much less so than the cosy bed in the despised “nursery” at Coombesthorpe. And she was hungry too, really hungry, for she had had no luncheon to speak of, no afternoon tea at all, a very long walk in the 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 than the bare necessaries of life now.” But she was so tired that in spite of all, she fell asleep and slept soundly.

It was morning already when she awoke – some moments of bewilderment as to what had happened and where she was were followed by a gradual recollection of the painful events of the preceding day. Then Fräulein Braune in a curiously befrilled headgear which Ella supposed must be a German nightcap, peeped in, to see if her guest was awake. Ella started up nervously.

“It is time to be getting ready, I suppose?” she said. “I was forgetting.”

“Yes,” said the governess. “If you have really kept to your determination of – ”