When I study I like to be alone.
Good-morning, Mrs. Michelson."
Sir Percival was not civil enough—perhaps I ought in justice to say, not composed enough—to take leave of me with the same polite attention.
The only person in the house, indeed, who treated me, at that time or at any other, on the footing of a lady in distressed circumstances, was the Count.
He had the manners of a true nobleman—he was considerate towards every one.
Even the young person (Fanny by name) who attended on Lady Glyde was not beneath his notice.
When she was sent away by Sir Percival, his lordship (showing me his sweet little birds at the time) was most kindly anxious to know what had become of her, where she was to go the day she left Blackwater Park, and so on.
It is in such little delicate attentions that the advantages of aristocratic birth always show themselves.
I make no apology for introducing these particulars—they are brought forward in justice to his lordship, whose character, I have reason to know, is viewed rather harshly in certain quarters.
A nobleman who can respect a lady in distressed circumstances, and can take a fatherly interest in the fortunes of an humble servant girl, shows principles and feelings of too high an order to be lightly called in question.
I advance no opinions—I offer facts only.
My endeavour through life is to judge not that I be not judged.
One of my beloved husband's finest sermons was on that text.
I read it constantly—in my own copy of the edition printed by subscription, in the first days of my widowhood—and at every fresh perusal I derive an increase of spiritual benefit and edification.
There was no improvement in Miss Halcombe, and the second night was even worse than the first.
Mr. Dawson was constant in his attendance.
The practical duties of nursing were still divided between the Countess and myself, Lady Glyde persisting in sitting up with us, though we both entreated her to take some rest.
"My place is by Marian's bedside," was her only answer.
"Whether I am ill, or well, nothing will induce me to lose sight of her."
Towards midday I went downstairs to attend to some of my regular duties.
An hour afterwards, on my way back to the sick-room, I saw the Count (who had gone out again early, for the third time) entering the hall, to all appearance in the highest good spirits.
Sir Percival, at the same moment, put his head out of the library door, and addressed his noble friend, with extreme eagerness, in these words—
"Have you found her?"
His lordship's large face became dimpled all over with placid smiles, but he made no reply in words.
At the same time Sir Percival turned his head, observed that I was approaching the stairs, and looked at me in the most rudely angry manner possible.
"Come in here and tell me about it," he said to the Count.
"Whenever there are women in a house they're always sure to be going up or down stairs."
"My dear Percival," observed his lordship kindly, "Mrs. Michelson has duties.
Pray recognise her admirable performance of them as sincerely as I do!
How is the sufferer, Mrs. Michelson?"
"No better, my lord, I regret to say."
"Sad—most sad!" remarked the Count.
"You look fatigued, Mrs. Michelson.
It is certainly time you and my wife had some help in nursing.
I think I may be the means of offering you that help.
Circumstances have happened which will oblige Madame Fosco to travel to London either to-morrow or the day after.
She will go away in the morning and return at night, and she will bring back with her, to relieve you, a nurse of excellent conduct and capacity, who is now disengaged.
The woman is known to my wife as a person to be trusted.
Before she comes here say nothing about her, if you please, to the doctor, because he will look with an evil eye on any nurse of my providing.
When she appears in this house she will speak for herself, and Mr. Dawson will be obliged to acknowledge that there is no excuse for not employing her.
Lady Glyde will say the same.
Pray present my best respects and sympathies to Lady Glyde."
I expressed my grateful acknowledgments for his lordship's kind consideration.
Sir Percival cut them short by calling to his noble friend (using, I regret to say, a profane expression) to come into the library, and not to keep him waiting there any longer.
I proceeded upstairs.
We are poor erring creatures, and however well established a woman's principles may be she cannot always keep on her guard against the temptation to exercise an idle curiosity.
I am ashamed to say that an idle curiosity, on this occasion, got the better of my principles, and made me unduly inquisitive about the question which Sir Percival had addressed to his noble friend at the library door.
Who was the Count expected to find in the course of his studious morning rambles at Blackwater Park?
A woman, it was to be presumed, from the terms of Sir Percival's inquiry.
I did not suspect the Count of any impropriety—I knew his moral character too well.