and she spoke once more
We moved forward again at a quick pace; and for half an hour, at least, not a word passed on either side. From time to time, being forbidden to make any more inquiries, I stole a look at her face. It was always the same; the lips close shut, the brow frowning, the eyes looking straight forward, eagerly and yet absently. We had reached the first houses, and were close on the new Wesleyan college, before her set features relaxed, and she spoke once more.
`Do you live in London?’ she said.
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`Yes.’ As I answered, it struck me that she might have formed some intention of appealing to me for assistance or advice, and that I ought to spare her a possible disappointment by warming her of my approaching absence from home. So I added, `But tomorrow I shall be away from London for some time. I am going into the country.’
`Where?’ she asked. `North or south?’
`North — to Cumberland.’
`Cumberland!’ she repeated the word tenderly. `Ah! I wish I was going there too. I was once happy in Cumberland.’
I tried again to lift the veil that hung between this woman and me.
`Perhaps you were born,’ I said, `in the beautiful Lake country.’
`No,’ she answered. `I was born in Hampshire; but I once went to school for a little while in Cumberland. Lakes? I don’t remember any lakes. It’s Limmeridge village, and Limmeridge House, I should like to see again.’
It was my turn now to stop suddenly. In the excited state of my curiosity, at that moment, the chance reference to Mr Fairlie’s place of residence, on the lips of my strange companion, staggered me with astonishment.
`Did you hear anybody calling after us?’ she asked, looking up and down the road affrightedly, the instant I stopped.
`No, no. I was only struck by the name of Limmeridge House. I heard it mentioned by some Cumberland people a few days since.’
`Ah! not my people. Mrs Fairlie is dead; and her husband is dead; and their little girl may be married and gone away by this time. I can’t say who lives at Limmeridge now. If any more are left there of that name, I only know I love them for Mrs Fairlie’s sake.’
She seemed about to say more; but while she was speaking, we came within view of the turnpike, at the top of the Avenue Road. Her hand tightened round my arm, and she looked anxiously at the gate before us.
`Is the turnpike man looking out?’ she asked.
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