Dorothy Beltham told me something of Janet that struck
me to the dust.
’It is this, dear Harry; bear to hear it!
Janet and I and his good true woman of a housekeeper,
whose name is Waddy, we are, I believe, the only persons
that know it. He had a large company to dine at
a City tavern, she told us, on the night after the
decision—when the verdict went against
him. The following morning I received a note from
this good Mrs. Waddy addressed to Sir Roderick’s
London house, where I was staying with Janet; it said
that he was ill; and Janet put on her bonnet at once
to go to him.’
‘The lady didn’t fear contagion any longer?’
’She went, walking fast. He was living
in lodgings, and the people of the house insisted
on removing him, Mrs. Waddy told us. She was cowering
in the parlour. I had not the courage to go upstairs.
Janet went by herself.’
My heart rose on a huge swell.
‘She was alone with him, Harry. We could
hear them.’
Dorothy Beltham looked imploringly on me to waken
my whole comprehension.
’She subdued him. When I saw him he was
white as death, but quiet, not dangerous at all.’
‘Do you mean she found him raving?’ I
cried out on our Maker’s name, in grief and
horror.
‘Yes, dear Harry, it was so.’
‘She stepped between him and an asylum?’
’She quitted Sir Roderick’s house to lodge
your father safe in one that she hired, and have him
under her own care. She watched him day and night
for three weeks, and governed him, assisted only at
intervals by the poor frightened woman, Mrs. Waddy,
and just as frightened me. And I am still subject
to the poor woman’s way of pressing her hand
to her heart at a noise. It ’s over now.
Harry, Janet wished that you should never hear of
it. She dreads any excitement for him. I
think she is right in fancying her own influence the
best: he is used to it. You know how gentle
she is though she is so firm.’
‘Oh! don’t torture me, ma’am, for
God’s sake,’ I called aloud.
I MEET MY FIRST PLAYFELLOW AND TAKE MY PUNISHMENT
There came to me a little note on foreign paper, unaddressed,
an enclosure forwarded by Janet, and containing merely
one scrap from the playful XENIEN of Ottilia’s
favourite brotherly poets, of untranslatable flavour:—
Who shuns true friends
flies fortune in the concrete:
Would he see what he
aims at? let him ask his heels.
It filled me with a breath of old German peace.
From this I learnt that Ottilia and Janet corresponded.
Upon what topics? to what degree of intimacy?
Janet now confessed to me that their intimacy had
never known reserve. The princess had divined
her attachment for Harry Richmond when their acquaintance
was commenced in the island, and knew at the present
moment that I had travelled round to the recognition
of Janet’s worth.
