“Oh,” said Nancy, with a strange gleam of her dark eyes, “so she’s got a daughter! and it was her as came into Masterton in the carrier’s cart? I just wanted to know. May be you could tell me what kind of a looking woman she was. There was one as I knew once in my young days--”
“She ain’t unlike yourself,” said Mrs. Swayne, with greater brevity than usual; and she turned and began to investigate Nancy with a closeness for which she was not prepared. Another gleam shot from the stranger’s black eyes as she listened. It even brought a tinge of color to her gray cheek, and though she restrained herself with the utmost care, there was unquestionably a certain excitement in her. Mrs. Swayne’s eyes were keen, but they were not used to read mysteries. A certain sense of something to find out oppressed her senses; but, notwithstanding her curiosity, she had not an idea what secret there could be.
“If it’s the same person, it’s years and years since I saw her last,” said Nancy; “and so she’s got a daughter! I shouldn’t think it could be a very young daughter if it’s hers; she should be as old as me. And it was her as came in to Masterton in the carrier’s cart! Well, well! what droll things does happen to be sure.”
“I don’t know what’s droll about that,” said Mrs. Swayne; “but I don’t know nought about her. She’s always been quiet and genteel as a lodger--always till this business came on about Mr. John. But I’d be glad to know where her friends was, if she’s got any friends. She’s as old as you, or older, and not to say any thing as is unpleasant--it’s an awful thing to think of--what if folks should go and die in your house, and you not know their friends?”
“If it’s that you’re thinking of, she’s got no friends,” said Nancy, with a vehemence that seemed unnatural and uncalled-for to her companions--“none as I know of nowheres--but may be me. And it isn’t much as I could do. She’s a woman as has been awful plundered and wronged in her time. Mr. John! oh, I’d just like to hear what it is about Mr. John. If that was to come after all, I tell you it would call down fire from heaven.”
“Goodness gracious me!” said Mrs. Swayne, “what does the woman mean?” And Betty too uttered a quavering exclamation, and they both drew their chairs closer to the separated seat, quite apart from the daïs of intimacy and friendship, upon which the dusty stranger had been permitted to rest.