Chapter X
Reading edition
While all her relations were mourning for her; while Aunt Betty was lying at death's door, stricken down by anxiety and sorrow; while Lord Lynwood scarcely dared look on the faces of his brother's children because they reminded him of his own lost darling—where was Estelle?
It was now more than a month since she had been missing, and no news had been received.
Without one moment's thought for her own safety, without any remembrance of Lady Coke's desires—nay, positive orders—she had plunged into the ruined summer-house after Bootles. Darting down the dark passage, in eager chase of the cat, the dog was deaf to her cries to him to come back. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she followed him. The passage grew darker and darker, and she could not even see the faint light from the open door. A fall over a heap of stones first made her realise she had better return, since no one knew where the passage led. She did not like to leave the dog, but, nevertheless, she hesitated a moment to call again to him before retracing her steps. She was surprised and horrified to find that her shout had the effect of bringing down some loose stones and earth on her head. It frightened her sufficiently to make her set off in earnest towards the door.
'I shall tell Georgie I have been down the passage, and that it is dreadful, and not at all interesting,' she thought, as she felt her way with a hand on the wall.
A glimmer of light, as she turned the corner, comforted her, and she stopped a moment to call gently to the dog, afraid to raise her voice too high for fear of the falling roof. Scarcely had she paused, however, when a great crash came, followed by a long mingled sound of many stones and much earth falling. It seemed as if the whole roof must be coming down. A shower of damp soil descended upon her head, and one clod larger than the rest knocked her over. Happily she was more stunned and frightened than hurt. The glimmer of light had disappeared, and she began to realise that the door must have shut. Terrible as her position was, the full horror of it did not dawn upon her at first.
Shaking herself free from the clinging mould, she got up, very much inclined to cry, till a wet nose thrust into her hand startled her. Bootles was not happy; his whines and the trembling way he pressed close to her added to her alarm.
Taking him into her arms she hugged him, while he tried to lick her face. He was some comfort after all, and his presence gave her courage.
'Oh, if I had only remembered what Auntie said, and not come here,' she sobbed, hiding her face on the dog's back. 'We must try, but I don't believe we shall ever get out of this dreadful place! Oh, I do wish I could tell Auntie I am sorry! I did not stop to think that it was wrong to follow you, poor Bootles.'
The thought that she was shut into the ruin was very terrifying, and after a little effort to move, which resulted in a fall over a mound, she sank upon the damp ground, sobbing in despair. Bootles, as if he understood, struggled free and whined. It was too dark for her to see his efforts to show her a way out of the mass of fallen rubbish.
(Continued on page 182.)