Nellie Netterville; or, One of the Transplanted, Chapter III-V [pp. 175-190]

Nellie Netterville.
in a moment with the wailing of her
people. Hamish was in despair;
and yet, perhaps, no other mode of
proceeding could have done so much
toward calming her as did this sudden outburst; for Mrs. Netterville
had a true Englishwoman's aversion
to "scenes," however real and natural to the circumstances of the case
they might be. She instantly checked her tears, and waiting quietly until the storm of grief had in some degree died out, she collected all her
energies, and read in a low, steady
voice the prayer or collect for those
travelling by land or sea, as she
found it in her missal. A few other
short but earnest prayers succeedled,
and then she paused once more.
Her audience took the hint and
quietly retired. Hamish was about
to follow, btut she rose from the priedieu, and signed to him to remain.
"Hamish," she said, gently but
decidedly, "I have done your bidding, and now I expect that you will
do mine. I wish to be alone for the
rest of the day-do you understand?
alone with God and my great sorrow! To-morrow I will begin the
work for which I have been left here,
but to-day must be my own. Come
not here yourself, and look to it that
no one else disturbs me. Keep a
heedful watch upon the soldiers, and
see that no mischance occurs between them and any of our people.
I trust to you for this and all things.
Now leave me. If I have need of
anything, I will let you know."
There was that in Mrs. Netterville's tone and manner which made
Hamish feel he had gone quite far
enough already; so, without another
word of remonstrance or expostulation, he made his reverence and retired.
CHAPTER IV.
MRS. NETTERVILLE waited until
the echo of his retreating footsteps
had died away in the corridor, and
then fastening the door so as to secure herself from any further interruption from the outside, she once
more fell on her knees before the
crucifix, and buried her face in both
her hands. How long she remained
thus she never knew exactly; but
the shades of a short January evening
were already gathering in the room,
when, with a start and a look as if
her conscience smote her, she rose
suddenly from her knees. "Christ
pardon me!" she muttered half aloud,
"that, in my own selfish sorrows, I
have forgotten others! Poor wretch!
By this time he must be well-nigh
famished, if, indeed, (though I trust
it will not,) the delay has not worked
him deeper mischief."
As these thoughts passed rapidly
through her mind, she opened a cupboard close at hand, and drew from
thence a bottle of wine, with some
other articles of delicate food, packed carefully in a wicker-basket, and
evidently left there for some especial
purpose. She then sought through
the gloom for a cloak, which she
threw upon her shoulders, and,
drawing the hood down over her
face, and taking the basket on her
arm, she hastily left the room. Not,
however, by the door through which
Hamish and the servants had retreat. ed, but by another at the opposite end,
and which was almost invisible, in
consequence of its forming one of
the panels in the black oak wainscoting of the chamber. It led her directly by a short stone passage to another door or low wicket, on opening
which she found herself in the private grounds of the castle. Before
her at no great distance, stood an
old ivy-covered church, half hidden
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