te. "But where in the world--?"
"Away from here. Away from THEM. Away, even most of all, now, from me.
Straight to her uncle."
"Only to tell on you--?"
"No, not 'only'! To leave me, in addition, with my remedy."
She was still vague. "And what IS your remedy?"
"Your loyalty, to begin with. And then Miles's."
She looked at me hard. "Do you think he--?"
"Won't, if he has the chance, turn on me? Yes, I venture still to think
it. At all events, I want to try. Get off with his sister as soon as
possible and leave me with him alone." I was amazed, myself, at the
spirit I had still in reserve, and therefore perhaps a trifle the more
disconcerted at the way in which, in spite of this fine example of it,
she hesitated. "There's one thing, of course," I went on: "they mustn't,
before she goes, see each other for three seconds." Then it came over me
that, in spite of Flora's presumable sequestration from the instant of
her return from the pool, it might already be too late. "Do you mean," I
anxiously asked, "that they HAVE met?"
At this she quite flushed. "Ah, miss, I'm not such a fool as that! If
I've been obliged to leave her three or four times, it has been each
time with one of the maids, and at present, though she's alone, she's
locked in safe. And yet--and yet!" There were too many things.
"And yet what?"
"Well, are you so sure of the little gentleman?"
"I'm not sure of anything but YOU. But I have, since last evening, a new
hope. I think he wants to give me an opening. I do believe that--poor
little exquisite wretch!--he wants to speak. Last evening, in the
firelight and the silence, he sat with me for two hours as if it were
just coming."
Mrs. Grose looked hard, through the window, at the gray, gathering day.
"And did it come?"
"No, though I waited and waited, I confess it didn't, and it was without
a breach of the silence or so much as a faint allusion to his sister's
condition and absence that we at last kissed for good night. All the
same," I continued, "I can't, if her uncle sees her, consent to his
seeing her brother without my having given the boy--and most of all
because things have got so bad--a little more time."
My friend appeared on this ground more reluctant than I could quite
understand. "What do you mean by more time?"
"Well, a day or two--really to bring it out. He'll then be on MY
side--of which you see the importance. If nothing comes, I shall only
fail, and you will, at th
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