"I pushed the door open briskly. Mrs. Carkeek was not there.
But something _was_ there, by the porcelain basin--something which might have sent me scurrying upstairs two steps at a time, but which as a matter of fact held me to the spot. My heart seemed to stand still--so still! And in the stillness I remember setting down the bra.s.s candlestick on a tall nest of drawers beside me.
"Over the porcelain basin and beneath the water trickling from the tap I saw two hands.
"That was all--two small hands, a child"s hands. I cannot tell you how they ended.
"No: they were not cut off. I saw them quite distinctly: just a pair of small hands and the wrists, and after that--nothing. They were moving briskly--washing themselves clean. I saw the water trickle and splash over them--not _through_ them--but just as it would on real hands.
They were the hands of a little girl, too. Oh, yes, I was sure of that at once. Boys and girls wash their hands differently. I can"t just tell you what the difference is, but it"s unmistakable.
"I saw all this before my candle slipped and fell with a crash. I had set it down without looking--for my eyes were fixed on the basin--and had balanced it on the edge of the nest of drawers. After the crash, in the darkness there, with the water running, I suffered some bad moments.
Oddly enough, the thought uppermost with me was that I _must_ shut off that tap before escaping. I _had_ to. And after a while I picked up all my courage, so to say, between my teeth, and with a little sob thrust out my hand and did it. Then I fled.
"The dawn was close upon me: and as soon as the sky reddened I took my bath, dressed and went downstairs. And there at the pantry door I found Mrs. Carkeek, also dressed, with my candlestick in her hand.
""Ah!" said I, "you picked it up."
"Our eyes met. Clearly Mrs. Carkeek wished me to begin, and I determined at once to have it out with her.
""And you knew all about it. That"s what accounts for your plugging up the cistern."
""You saw? . . ." she began.
""Yes, yes. And you must tell me all about it--never mind how bad.
Is--is it--murder?"
""Law bless you, miss, whatever put such horrors in your head?"
""She was washing her hands."
""Ah, so she does, poor dear! But--murder! And dear little Miss Margaret, that wouldn"t go to hurt a fly!"
""Miss Margaret?"
""Eh, she died at seven year. Squire Kendall"s only daughter; and that"s over twenty year ago. I was her nurse, miss, and I know-- diphtheria it was; she took it down in the village."
""But how do you know it is Margaret?"
""Those hands--why, how could I mistake, that used to be her nurse?"
""But why does she wash them?"
""Well, miss, being always a dainty child--and the house-work, you see--"
"I took a long breath. "Do you mean to tell me that all this tidying and dusting--" I broke off. "Is it _she_ who has been taking this care of me?"
"Mrs. Carkeek met my look steadily.
""Who else, miss?"
""Poor little soul!"
""Well now"--Mrs. Carkeek rubbed my candlestick with the edge of her ap.r.o.n--"I"m so glad you take it like this. For there isn"t really nothing to be afraid of--is there?" She eyed me wistfully. "It"s my belief she loves you, miss. But only to think what a time she must have had with the others!"
""The others?" I echoed.
""The other tenants, miss: the ones afore you."
""Were they bad?"
""They was awful. Didn"t Farmer Hosking tell you? They carried on fearful--one after another, and each one worse than the last."
""What was the matter with them? Drink?"
""Drink, miss, with some of "em. There was the Major--he used to go mad with it, and run about the coombe in his nightshirt. Oh, scandalous!
And his wife drank too--that is, if she ever _was_ his wife. Just think of that tender child washing Up after their nasty doings!"
"I shivered.
""But that wasn"t the worst, miss--not by a long way. There was a pair here--from the colonies, or so they gave out--with two children, a boy and gel, the eldest scarce six. Poor mites!"
""Why, what happened?"
""They beat those children, miss--your blood would boil!--_and_ starved, _and_ tortured "em, it"s my belief. You could hear their screams, I"ve been told, away back in the high-road, and that"s the best part of half a mile. Sometimes they was locked up without food for days together.
But it"s my belief that little Miss Margaret managed to feed them somehow. Oh, I can see her, creeping to the door and comforting!"
""But perhaps she never showed herself when these awful people were here, but took to flight until they left."
""You didn"t never know her, miss. The brave she was! She"d have stood up to lions. She"ve been here all the while: and only to think what her innocent eyes and ears must have took in! There was another couple--"
Mrs. Carkeek sunk her voice.
""Oh, hush!" said I, "if I"m to have any peace of mind in this house!"
""But you won"t go, miss? She loves you, I know she do. And think what you might be leaving her to--what sort of tenant might come next. For she can"t go. She"ve been here ever since her father sold the place.
He died soon after. You musn"t go!"
"Now I had resolved to go, but all of a sudden I felt how mean this resolution was.
""After all," said I, "there"s nothing to be afraid of."
""That"s it, miss; nothing at all. I don"t even believe it"s so very uncommon. Why, I"ve heard my mother tell of farmhouses where the rooms were swept every night as regular as clockwork, and the floors sanded, and the pots and pans scoured, and all while the maids slept. They put it down to the piskies; but we know better, miss, and now we"ve got the secret between us we can lie easy in our beds, and if we hear anything, say "G.o.d bless the child!" and go to sleep."
""Mrs. Carkeek," said I, "there"s only one condition I have to make."
""What"s that?"
""Why, that you let me kiss you."
""Oh, you dear!" said Mrs. Carkeek as we embraced: and this was as close to familiarity as she allowed herself to go in the whole course of my acquaintance with her.