She left me. I descended at once to the churchyard, and crossed the stile which led directly to Mrs. Fairlie’s grave. I looked attentively at the cross, and at the square block of marble below it, on which the inscription was cut. Then I noticed something strange. One half of the cross and the stone beneath had been marked and made dirty by the weather. But the other half was bright and clear as if somebody had cleaned the marble very recently. I looked closer, and saw that it had been cleaned – recently cleaned, in a downward direction from top to bottom.
The sun was beginning to go down and a cold wind started to blow. Dark storm clouds were moving quickly. In the far distance I could hear the noise of the sea. What a wild and lonely place this was.
Who had begun the cleansing of the marble, and who had left it unfinished? I found a hiding place among the trees and began to wait. I waited for about half an hour. The sun had just set when suddenly I saw a figure enter the churchyard and approach the grave hurriedly.
The figure was that of a woman. She was wearing a long coat of a dark-blue colour, but I could see a bit of the dress she wore underneath her coat. My heart began to beat fast as I noticed the colour – white.
The woman approached the grave and stood looking at it for a long time. Then she kissed the cross and took out a cloth from under her coat. She wet the cloth in the stream and started to clean the marble.
She was so busy with what she was doing that she didn’t hear me approach her. When I was within a few feet of her, I stopped.
She could sense that someone was behind her and stopped cleaning the marble, turning round slowly. When she saw me, she gave a faint cry of terror.
“Don’t be frightened,” I said. “Surely you remember me?”
I stopped while I spoke – then advanced a few steps gently – then stopped again – and so approached by little and little till I was close to her.
“You remember me?” I said. “We met very late, and I helped you to find the way to London. Surely you have not forgotten that?”
“You are very kind to me,” she murmured.
“I acted as your friend then, and I want to be your friend now. Please don’t be afraid.”
She stopped. She continued to look at me with a face full of fear. There was no doubt that it was the same strange woman – the woman I had met once.
“How did you come here?” she asked.
“Do you remember me telling you that I was going to Cumberland? Well, since we last met, I have been staying all the time at Limmeridge House.”
The woman’s sad pale face brightened for a moment.
“At Limmeridge House! Ah, how happy you must be there,” she said.
I looked at her. She smiled and I saw again the extraordinary likeness between her and Laura Fairlie. I had seen Anne Catherick’s likeness in Miss Fairlie. I now saw Miss Fairlie’s likeness in Anne Catherick. The great difference was that Laura’s face was full of joy and happiness, while this woman’s face was sad and frightened. What could it mean?
Anne Catherick’s hand laid on my shoulder.
“You are looking at me, and you are thinking of something,” she said. “What is it?”
“Nothing extraordinary,” I answered. “I was only wondering how you came here.”
“I came with a friend who is very good to me. I have only been here two days. Her tomb must be as white as snow. Is there anything wrong in that? I hope not. Surely nothing can be wrong that I do for Mrs. Fairlie’s sake?”
She was watching me.
“My name is Anne Catherick,” she said. “And I’ve come here to be close to my dear friend’s grave. Nobody looks after it – see how dirty it is. I must clean it.”
She picked up her cloth and started cleaning the marble.
“Are you staying in the village?” I asked her.
“No, no, not in the village,” she replied, “at a farm about three miles away. “Three miles away at a farm. Do you know the farm? They call it Todd’s Corner.[42]”
I remembered the place perfectly – it was one of the oldest farms in the neighbourhood, situated in a solitary, sheltered spot.
“The people there are good and kind, and an elderly woman looks after me well.”
“And where have you come from?” I went on.
“I escaped,” she said. “I’ve run away and I’m not going back.”
I remember that she escapes from an Asylum – a place where mad people are kept.
“You don’t think I should go back there, do you?” she said, looking at me worriedly. “I’m not mad and I’ve done nothing wrong. I was shut up in the Asylum by a man who is very cruel.”
“Certainly not. I am glad you escaped from it – I am glad I helped you.”
“Yes, yes, you did help me indeed,” she went on. “It was easy to escape. They never suspected me as they suspected the others. I was so quiet, and so obedient, and so easily frightened. You helped me. Did I thank you at the time? I thank you now very kindly.”
“Had you no father or mother to take care of you?”
“Father? – I never saw him – I never heard mother speak of him. Father? Ah, dear! he is dead, I suppose.”
“And your mother?”
“I don’t get on well with her.[43] We are a trouble and a fear to each other. Don’t ask me about mother.”
Suddenly she looked at me with a new expression. “How is Miss Fairlie?” she asked.
“I’m afraid Miss Fairlie was not very well or very happy this morning,” I said.
She murmured a few words, but they were spoken in such a low tone, that I could not even guess at what they meant.
“Miss Fairlie has received your letter this morning. You did write that letter, didn’t you, Anne?”
“How do you know?” she said faintly. “Who showed it to you?” The blood rushed back into her face. “I never wrote it,” she cried; “I know nothing about it!”
“Yes,” I said, “you wrote it, and you know about it. It was wrong to send such a letter, it was wrong to frighten Miss Fairlie. If you had anything to say that it was right and necessary for her to hear, you should have gone yourself to Limmeridge House – you should have spoken to the young lady with your own lips.”
Anne sank down on her knees with her arms round the cross, and made no reply.
“Miss Fairlie will keep your secret,” I went on, “and not let you come to any harm. Will you see her tomorrow at the farm? Will you meet her in the garden at Limmeridge House?”
“Oh!” Her lips murmured the words close on the grave-stone. “You know how I love your child! Oh, Mrs. Fairlie! Mrs. Fairlie! Tell me how to save her. Be my darling and my mother once more, and tell me what to do for the best.”
I heard her lips kissing the stone. I stooped down,[44] and took the poor helpless hands tenderly in mine, and tried to soothe her.
It was useless. She snatched her hands from me, and never moved her face from the stone.
“I will talk of nothing to distress you,” I said.
“You want something,” she answered sharply and suspiciously. “Don’t look at me like that. Speak to me – tell me what you want.”
“I only want you to quiet yourself.”
“Why don’t you help me?” she asked, with