COMING EVENTS.
The Colmers, mother and daughter, at the end of the village in a the shop. The was small, but the was an for so sparsely-populated a neighbourhood. Indeed its owners an excellent out of the business; and they were in the position of life into which they had been by circumstances. They five or six girls in the and three in the shop, so that Anne her hands full in looking after these underlings, and in the of the business. She was an administratrix.
As may be from the nature of her complaint, Mrs. Colmer was a in the economy of Briar Cottage--for so the house was named. The old woman sat in a chair a window, looking out on to the garden. This to the river banks, and was out, with a at the end. From her window the see the of and steamers, and the of the life. She viewed this from to eve; read on occasions, and on her past life, which had been none of the happiest.
A mild and woman, she was of a sweet disposition; and although she was to her chair by her affliction, she complained. The only to her limbs, but her brain was still active, and she give, and did give, her excellent in with the business. The on her how she had the of Emma. But that was not the only event in her life; there were others which will be spoken of in course. Mrs. Colmer was not without her troubles, but she had her also, and of these the love of Anne was the greatest.
On the day of Fanks' the old lady was seated in her place, five and six, waiting for Anne. Tea was for the girl, but Mrs. Colmer had already been by her nurse, and was looking to the which took place at this time. All day Anne was in the shop, and Mrs. Colmer was left to her own devices; but when the of the day were ended, mother and met to converse. To Mrs. Colmer this had been the hour of the day--but that was Emma to London. She still talked to Anne, and took an in and local affairs; but she was by a of evil, and she to her child, she should meet with the of her sister. An of in Briar Cottage.
In Anne entered, and, having her mother, sat to tea. She was as as ever, but there was a look on her which but with her youth. It would as though she the also, and was the of some terrible misfortune. After a of the languished, for, in her own thoughts, Anne did not to talk. Mrs. Colmer noticed this, and with solicitude, on what Anne so absentminded.
"Is there anything wrong, my dear?" she asked nervously.
"Nothing, mother; I am a little tired, that is all."
"There is more than that, Anne. For some days you have not been at all like yourself."
"Can you wonder at that, mother?" Anne, bitterly. "Think of all that has this last month."
An angry light came into the of the old woman. "You should be of what has happened," she said in a voice; "that man has been for his courses. He my Emma to her death, and himself has by violence. An for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; that is Scripture."
"All the same, mother, I wish that he had not been murdered. Gregory was a brute, I know, and the death of Emma at his door; but murder--" she shuddered. "It is so terrible to think that he should have been cut off in the of his wickedness."
"He has gone into the pit, child. Let us talk no more of him. It is said that we must our enemies, but it is hard for me to him, though he is dead. My Emma, she should have as Lady Fellenger, of through his cruelty. I hope, Anne, that your marriage will turn out than that of your sister."
"Ted will be the best of husbands," said Anne, in a of conviction. "He loves me as as I love him. I wonder when he is to see me again? I have so much to tell him."
"About your visit to Half-Moon Street?"
"That and other things," was Anne's answer; then, after a pause, "though he may not be so of that visit as you think."
"Who tell him but yourself?"
"That detective, mother. He saw me when I entered the room, and he me also. If I had not him in the manner I told you, I should have been in trouble."
"You need not be about that now, Anne. The can you----"
"I am not so sure about that," said Anne, in parenthesis.
"And as to Mr. Hersham about your visit to Half-Moon Street," Mrs. Colmer continued, "I do not see how this you speak of can possibly tell him."
"I can see, mother. Mr. Hersham this detective--a Mr. Fanks; and he will see him about the case in the of the 'Morning Planet.' Should they meet--as they are almost sure to do--my name will be mentioned. Then the of my visit will come out, with the result that Fanks will me here."
Mrs. Colmer pale. "Are you to meet him," she asked.
Anne her shoulders. "I can't say that I am overpleased," was her reply. "He is a man, and I shall have in my own counsel."
"You must tell him nothing--nothing."
"You can be sure of that, mother. Should Mr. Fanks come here he will go away as wise as he came. I know when to my as on this occasion. Matters are too to be spoken of openly."
"Oh, dear, dear," said Mrs. Colmer in an tone. "Into what have we not been led. I wish I had let Emma go to London."
"Rather wish that she had met with Herbert Vaud, mother."
"But, Anne, she loved Herbert."
"I do not think so, else she would have married Sir Gregory. But you know she always was and impulsive; look where her have her. If she had not met with Herbert she would not have the wife of that man; if she had not been his wife she would not have been to her death; and if she had not died, we should not have been in all this trouble."
"Trouble, trouble!" Mrs. Colmer. "What we have had, and more will come."
"Do not be afraid, mother," said Anne, her. "You have always me to you and danger. I may meet with this detective; I may be questioned by him, and so all will be well. But should he come, why--I shall know how to answer him."
"You will say nothing."
"On the contrary, I shall say a great deal," Anne. "But such as will Mr. Fanks. He shall be set on the right path by my telling; be sure of that."
"I wish I see you married to Ted, my dear," said her mother, by these assurances. "It would be such a to my mind."
"I am we will not be able to for some time. My dear Ted is very clever, but he cannot earn for us to live on; and I do not wish to be a on him. No, no, mother, we must wait until mend, and the is brighter."
"You have married Dr. Binjoy."
"I would not Dr. Binjoy if there was not another man in the world," said Anne, with contempt. "He is a self-indulgent sensualist. My Ted is a dozen of him."
"Still he is well-off," Mrs. Colmer.
"I do not see how you make that out, mother. He was, and is, on Sir Louis Fellenger for his money; and I want to have nothing to do with the Fellengers. Their family have cost us dear already."
This to the Emma Mrs. Colmer weep, and Anne had in her. However, she succeeded in the end, and left her mother to her own thoughts, while she herself out into the garden for a of fresh air. Moreover, she wanted to be alone, for the purpose of over the position of things. Anne not but that if arose, she and her mother would themselves very placed.
The was warm, and the sky was with a light, which the atmosphere. Against this, the trees out in relief, every and being against the sky. The of laughter, and the of came to the ears of the girl as she walked slowly the path the summerhouse. A low, ran along the bank of the river, and as she over this low parapet, Anne see some to right and left. Before a house on the opposite a number of people were collected; and every now and then a would shoot out into the two or three of them away. Someone had a banjo, and Anne the of the string's, and the echo of the latest music-hall ditty. Altogether, the was not without its charm; but she was too much taken up with her own to pay much attention to the picture spread out her. The of the no peace to her.
"How I have acted," she thought, with a shiver. "If I had been wise I would have left these alone. I that Mr. Fanks me as the woman he saw in Tooley's Alley. If he me out, he will ask me what I was doing there on the night of the murder. What can I say. I not tell him the truth, and he may to what I say to him. I for the best, it is true, but my good have me into a position of danger. But I may be wrong--I may be safe. That man may me. If he does,"--she again, and looked up the river.
Under the of the sky, the rolled, a of gold here and there with the dark of boats. To the left Anne saw a one oarsman, the stream. In a moment she calculated that he would pass almost under the wall. Then she returned to her self-communings.
"If Ted were only here," she thought. "I should like to tell him all that I have done, and ask him how to act. For his own he must keep silent; and for the of my mother I must my tongue. Oh, it is terrible--terrible to know what I know, and yet dumb. And I am of that detective. His to me through on that day. Should he me out he may me to speak. And if I speak--oh, the and of it. Why, why are such permitted in this world. Oh, Ted! Ted, I wish you were here to me."
She her on the and into tears. Anne was not easily moved; and it was an thing for her to thus give way to her emotions. But she was only a girl after all, and her was up and by the knowledge of the she knew. She would like to have in someone, if only to her mind; but she from the of such a step. A word from her, and the in Tooley's Alley--but, no, she put the out of her mind, and, still her on her arms, she bitterly.
Meanwhile the single the red wall, which was the point for which he was making. Soon he came of it; he came under it, and Anne her at the of the of oars, to the very man of she had been thinking. It was Ted Hersham.
