Chapter 17
1024 Words
Some of Mrs. Sharp's earliest thoughts, the next morning, were given to
Caterina whom she had not been able to visit the evening before, and
whom, from a nearly equal mixture of affection and self-importance, she
did not at all like resigning to Mrs. Bellamy's care. At half-past eight
o'clock she went up to Tina's room, bent on benevolent dictation as to
doses and diet and lying in bed. But on opening the door she found the
bed smooth and empty. Evidently it had not been slept in. What could this
mean? Had she sat up all night, and was she gone out to walk? The poor
thing's head might be touched by what had happened yesterday; it was such
a shock--finding Captain Wybrow in that way; she was perhaps gone out of
her mind. Mrs. Sharp looked anxiously in the place where Tina kept her
hat and cloak; they were not there, so that she had had at least the
presence of mind to put them on. Still the good woman felt greatly
alarmed, and hastened away to tell Mr. Gilfil, who, she knew, was in his
study.
'Mr. Gilfil,' she said, as soon as she had closed the door behind her,
'my mind misgives me dreadful about Miss Sarti.'
'What is it?' said poor Maynard, with a horrible fear that Caterina had
betrayed something about the dagger.
'She's not in her room, an' her bed's not been slept in this night, an'
her hat an' cloak's gone.'
For a minute or two Mr. Gilfil was unable to speak. He felt sure the
worst had come: Caterina had destroyed herself. The strong man suddenly
looked so ill and helpless that Mrs. Sharp began to be frightened at the
effect of her abruptness.
'O, sir, I'm grieved to my heart to shock you so; but I didn't know who
else to go to.'
'No, no, you were quite right.'
He gathered some strength from his very despair. It was all over, and he
had nothing now to do but to suffer and to help the suffering. He went on
in a firmer voice--'Be sure not to breathe a word about it to any one. We
must not alarm Lady Cheverel and Sir Christopher. Miss Sarti may be only
walking in the garden. She was terribly excited by what she saw
yesterday, and perhaps was unable to lie down from restlessness. Just go
quietly through the empty rooms, and see whether she is in the house. I
will go and look for her in the grounds.'
He went down, and, to avoid giving any alarm in the house, walked at once
towards the Mosslands in search of Mr. Bates, whom he met returning from
his breakfast. To the gardener he confided his fear about Caterina,
assigning as a reason for this fear the probability that the shock she
had undergone yesterday had unhinged her mind, and begging him to send
men in search of her through the gardens and park, and inquire if she had
been seen at the lodges; and if she were not found or heard of in this
way, to lose no time in dragging the waters round the Manor.
'God forbid it should be so, Bates, but we shall be the easier for having
searched everywhere.'
'Troost to mae, troost to mae, Mr. Gilfil. Eh! but I'd ha' worked for
day-wage all the rest o' my life, rether than anythin' should ha'
happened to her.'
The good gardener, in deep distress, strode away to the stables that he
might send the grooms on horseback through the park.
Mr. Gilfil's next thought was to search the Rookery: she might be
haunting the scene of Captain Wybrow's death. He went hastily over every
mound, looked round every large tree, and followed every winding of the
walks. In reality he had little hope of finding her there; but the bare
possibility fenced off for a time the fatal conviction that Caterina's
body would be found in the water. When the Rookery had been searched in
vain, he walked fast to the border of the little stream that bounded one
side of the grounds. The stream was almost everywhere hidden among trees,
and there was one place where it was broader and deeper than
elsewhere--she would be more likely to come to that spot than to the
pool. He hurried along with strained eyes, his imagination continually
creating what he dreaded to see.
There is something white behind that overhanging bough. His knees tremble
under him. He seems to see part of her dress caught on a branch, and her
dear dead face upturned. O God, give strength to thy creature, on whom
thou hast laid this great agony! He is nearly up to the bough, and the
white object is moving. It is a waterfowl, that spreads its wings and
flies away screaming. He hardly knows whether it is a relief or a
disappointment that she is not there. The conviction that she is dead
presses its cold weight upon him none the less heavily.
As he reached the great pool in front of the Manor, he saw Mr. Bates,
with a group of men already there, preparing for the dreadful search
which could only displace his vague despair by a definite horror; for the
gardener, in his restless anxiety, had been unable to defer this until
other means of search had proved vain. The pool was not now laughing with
sparkles among the water-lilies. It looked black and cruel under the
sombre sky, as if its cold depths held relentlessly all the murdered hope
and joy of Maynard Gilfil's life.
Thoughts of the sad consequences for others as well as himself were
crowding on his mind. The blinds and shutters were all closed in front of
the Manor, and it was not likely that Sir Christopher would be aware of
anything that was passing outside; but Mr. Gilfil felt that Caterina's
disappearance could not long be concealed from him. The coroner's inquest
would be held shortly; she would be inquired for, and then it would be
inevitable that the Baronet should know all.
- Writer
