m the servants, if only Miss
Steet would learn from them whether Mr. Berrington were dining at home.
Laura told her that her sister was ill and she was hurrying to join her
abroad. It had to be mentioned, that way, that Mrs. Berrington had left
the country, though of course there was no spoken recognition between
the two women of the reasons for which she had done so. There was only a
tacit hypocritical assumption that she was on a visit to friends and
that there had been nothing queer about her departure. Laura knew that
Miss Steet knew the truth, and the governess knew that she knew it.
This young woman lent a hand, very confusedly, to the girl's
preparations; she ventured not to be sympathetic, as that would point
too much to badness, but she succeeded perfectly in being dismal. She
suggested that Laura was ill herself, but Laura replied that this was no
matter when her sister was so much worse. She elicited the fact that Mr.
Berrington was dining out--the butler believed with his mother--but she
was of no use when it came to finding in the 'Bradshaw' which she
brought up from the hall the hour of the night-boat to Ostend. Laura
found it herself; it was conveniently late, and it was a gain to her
that she was very near the Victoria station, where she would take the
train for Dover. The governess wanted to go to the station with her, but
the girl would not listen to this--she would only allow her to see that
she had a cab. Laura let her help her still further; she sent her down
to talk to Lady Davenant's maid when that personage arrived in Grosvenor
Place to inquire, from her mistress, what in the world had become of
poor Miss Wing. The maid intimated, Miss Steet said on her return, that
her ladyship would have come herself, only she was too angry. She was
very bad indeed. It was an indication of this that she had sent back her
young friend's dressing-case and her clothes. Laura also borrowed money
from the governess--she had too little in her pocket. The latter
brightened up as the preparations advanced; she had never before been
concerned in a flurried night-episode, with an unavowed clandestine
side; the very imprudence of it (for a sick girl alone) was romantic,
and before Laura had gone down to the cab she began to say that foreign
life must be fascinating and to make wistful reflections. She saw that
the coast was clear, in the nursery--that the children were asleep, for
their aunt to come in. She kissed Ferdy whi