FIRST PERIOD: THE LOSS OF THE DIAMOND (1848)
18. CHAPTER XVIII
(continued)
"Drive on!" cried Miss Rachel, louder than ever, and taking no more notice
of Mr. Franklin than she had taken of Sergeant Cuff.
Mr. Franklin stepped back thunderstruck, as well he might be.
The coachman, not knowing what to do, looked towards my lady,
still standing immovable on the top step. My lady, with anger
and sorrow and shame all struggling together in her face,
made him a sign to start the horses, and then turned back hastily
into the house. Mr. Franklin, recovering the use of his speech,
called after her, as the carriage drove off, "Aunt! you were
quite right. Accept my thanks for all your kindness--and let
me go."
My lady turned as though to speak to him. Then, as if distrusting herself,
waved her hand kindly. "Let me see you, before you leave us, Franklin,"
she said, in a broken voice--and went on to her own room.
"Do me a last favour, Betteredge," says Mr. Franklin, turning to me,
with the tears in his eyes. "Get me away to the train as soon
as you can!"
He too went his way into the house. For the moment, Miss Rachel
had completely unmanned him. Judge from that, how fond he must
have been of her!
Sergeant Cuff and I were left face to face, at the bottom of the steps.
The Sergeant stood with his face set towards a gap in the trees,
commanding a view of one of the windings of the drive which led
from the house. He had his hands in his pockets, and he was softly
whistling "The Last Rose of Summer" to himself.
"There's a time for everything," I said savagely enough.
"This isn't a time for whistling."
At that moment, the carriage appeared in the distance, through the gap,
on its way to the lodge-gate. There was another man, besides Samuel,
plainly visible in the rumble behind.
"All right!" said the Sergeant to himself. He turned round to me.
"It's no time for whistling, Mr. Betteredge, as you say.
It's time to take this business in hand, now, without sparing anybody.
We'll begin with Rosanna Spearman. Where is Joyce?"
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