Princess Sarah, and Other Stories
Miss Mignon
It was a week before Christmas. There were no visitors at FerrersCourt, although a couple of days later the great hall would be filled tooverflowing with a happy, light-hearted set of people, all bent, as theyalways were at Ferrers Court, on enjoying themselves to the uttermost.
The weather was cold and cheerless, though not cold enough to stop thehunting, and Captain Ferrers had been absent all day, and might now comehome at any moment. Mrs. Ferrers was, in fact, rather putting on thetime, hoping he might return before Browne brought in the tea. Thechildren meantime were clamouring loudly for a story.
"A story?" said Mrs. Ferrers doubtfully; she never thought herself verygood at story-telling, and often wondered that the children seemed tolike hearing her so much.
"Yes, a story," cried three or four fresh young voices in a breath.
"I'm afraid I've told you _all_ my stories," Mrs. Ferrers saidapologetically. "And I have told them all so many times."
"Tell us about Mignon," cried Maud, for Mignon, their half-sister, wasstill their favourite heroine.
Mrs. Ferrers pondered for a moment. "I don't believe," she remarked,"that I have ever told you about Mignon being lost."
"Mignon--lost!" cried Maud. "Oh! never."
"Lost!" echoed Pearl. "And where was she lost, Mother?"
"Tell us," cried Bertie.
"Yes; do tell us," echoed Cecil.
"Tell us," cried Madge and Baby in the same breath.
So Mrs. Ferrers gathered her thoughts together and began.
"It was when Pearl was about four months old"--at which Pearl drewherself up and looked important, as if she, too, had had a share in theadventure--"we went to London for the season. That was in April. Wehad not the house we have now, for that was let for a term, so yourfather took a house near the top of Queen's Gate."
"That's where the memorial is," said Pearl. "I know."
"Yes; we know," echoed Maud.
"Well, Humphie, who had attended Mignon ever since she was a year old,had, of course, the entire care of Pearl, and I engaged a very niceFrench maid--half-maid, half-nurse--for Mignon. She was under Humphie,of course, but she had to take Mignon out--not very often, for she wasaccustomed to going out a great deal with your father--and to dress her,and so on.
"Well, one day your father and I were going to a large afternoon partywhere we couldn't very well take Mignon. We stayed rather late, rushedback and dressed and went to a dinner-party, not really having time tosee the children at all. We had a party or two later on, but to them wenever went, for just as we ladies were going through the hall on our wayup into the drawing-room, I caught sight of Browne at the door of theinner hall. I turned aside at once.
"'Is anything the matter, Browne?' I asked. Indeed, I saw by his whiteface that something dreadful had happened.
"'Is anything the matter, Brown?'" (Page 141)]
"'Oh, yes, ma'am, something dreadful!' he answered. 'I scarcely knowhow to tell you. Miss Mignon is lost.'
"'Miss Mignon lost, Browne! What do you mean?' I said. 'How can she belost?'
"'I only know she is,' he said, in a shaking voice. 'That silly idiotHortense went out with her about three o'clock, with orders to go intothe Park. She--this is her story, I cannot vouch for the truth of it,ma'am--she admits that she took her first to look at the shop-windows inthe High Street, and that then she thought she would like to go into theGardens, and that while there she fell asleep. The afternoon being sowarm, she sat on a bench asleep till half-past five, and when she wokeup with a start, feeling very shivery and cold--and serve her right,too!--Miss Mignon was gone; there was not a trace of her to be seen.'
"'If the silly creature had come straight home,' Browne went on,'something might have been done; but instead of doing that, she must gointo hysterics--with nobody to see her, even!--and then go crying aboutfrom one gate to the other, wandering about, as if Miss Mignon would belikely to be sitting on the edge of the pavement waiting for her. Atlast--I suppose when she began to get hungry'--Browne went on savagely,'she bethought herself of coming home, and there she landed herself atnine o'clock, and has been steadily going out of one faint into anotherever since. I have sent James round to the police station,' he said,'but I thought I had better come straight away and fetch you, ma'am.'
"Well," Mrs. Ferrers went on, "I said good-night to our hostess and sentfor your father, and we went back at once. We were five miles fromhome, and it was half-past eleven when we got there. And there was notrace of Mignon. James had taken a cab and gone round to all the policestations within reach of the house, and Humphie was waiting for us,shaking like a leaf and as white as death, and at the sight of usHortense went off into wild hysterics again and shrieked till--till--Icould have shaken her," Mrs. Ferrers ended severely.
"Well, your father and I just stood and looked at one another. 'Wherecan she be?' I said. 'Can't you get any information out of Hortense?Surely the woman must know where she was last with her.'
"But, as your father said, the Gardens were all deserted and closedhours ago. She was not at all likely to be there. Almost without doubtshe had strayed out into the busy street, had then found herself in astrange neighbourhood, and--and I simply shuddered to think what mighthave happened to her after that.
"For the time we were helpless; we did not know, we could not think whatto do next. A policeman came up from the nearest station as we stoodconsidering what we should do. But he had no news; he shook his head atmy eager inquiry. 'No, madam,' he said, 'I'm sorry we have no news ofthe little lady; but we telegraphed to all the stations near, but nolost child has been brought in. She must have fallen in with someprivate person.'
"As you may imagine," Mrs. Ferrers went on, "I felt dreadfullyblank--indeed, your father and I simply stood and looked at one another.What should we, what could we do next? To go out and search about thestreets at nearly midnight would be like looking for a needle in a trussof hay--we could not send a crier out with a bell--we were at our wits'end. Indeed, it seemed as if we could do nothing but wait till morning,when we might advertise.
"Then just as the policeman was turning away, another policeman came andknocked at the door. A little girl had been taken into the policestation at Hammersmith, a pretty fair-haired child about six years old,who did not know where she lived, and could not make the men thereunderstand who she was.
"'That's not Miss Mignon,' cried Humphie indignantly; 'Miss Mignon knowsperfectly well who she is and who she belongs to. That's never MissMignon.'
"'Ah, well, Humphie,' said your father, 'Miss Mignon has never been lostat dead of night before; it's enough to frighten any child, and thoughshe's as quick as a needle, she's only a baby after all.'
"The carriage was still at the door, and we went down as quickly as thehorses could go to Hammersmith, feeling sure that we should find Mignonthere, frightened and tired, but safe. And when we got there the childwasn't Mignon at all, but a little, commonly-dressed thing who didn'tseem even to know what her name was. However, its mother came whilst wewere there, and scolded her properly for what she called 'running away.'
"I couldn't help it," Mrs. Ferrers went on. "I was in such trouble,wondering what had got Mignon, and I just spoke to her straight. 'Oh,'I said, 'you ought only to be thankful your little girl is safe andsound, and not be scolding the poor little frightened thing like that.How can your speak to her so?'
"'Well,' she said, 'if you had seven of them always up to some mischiefor other, and you'd been running about for hours till you were fit todrop, and you hadn't a carriage to take her home in, I daresay you'dfeel a bit cross, too.'
"And I felt," Mrs. Ferrers went on reflectively, "that there was a greatdeal in what she said. They didn't live more than a mile off, and it wasour way back, so we drove them home, and the little girl went to sleepon her mother's knee; and I told her what trouble we were in aboutMignon. She was quite grateful for the lift, and I promised to let herknow if we found Mignon all right.
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"Well, we reached home again, and there wasn't a sign of Mignonanywhere. With every moment I got more and more uneasy, for Mignon wasturned six years old, and was well used to going about and seeingstrange people. I knew she wasn't a child to get nervous unduly, or befrightened of any one who offered to take care of her, only I was soafraid that the wrong sort of people might have got hold of her, andmight have decoyed her away for the sake of her clothes or a reward.
"Oh, dear, what a dreadful night it was! Your father went out and got acab and went round to all the police-stations, inquiring everywhere fortraces of her. And then he went and knocked up all the park-keepers,but none of them had noticed her either.
"And Humphie and I sat up by the nursery fire; and about two in themorning, Hortense crept down and went on her knees to me, praying andimploring me to forgive her, and saying that if anything had happened tolittle missie, she would make away with herself."
"Hortense crept down and went on her knees to me, prayingand imploring me to forgive her."]
"What's that?" asked Madge suddenly.
"Hanging herself," answered Pearl. "Judas hanged himself."
"Judas went out and hanged himself," corrected Maud, who had a passionfor accuracy of small details.
"Yes, of course, but that doesn't matter," said Pearl. "The hanging wasthe principal thing. He could have hanged himself without going out, butgoing out without hanging himself would not have been anything."
"Go on, Mother," cried a chorus of voices. "What happened next?"
"Well, nothing happened for a long time," Mrs. Ferrers replied. "We allstayed up; I think nobody thought of going to bed that night at all--Iknow Humphie and I never did--and at last the morning broke, and yourfather and Browne began to make arrangements for putting notices in allthe papers, and when they had written them all, they went off in thegrey dim light to try to get them put into that day's papers. Oh! itwas a most dreadful night, and a terrible morning.
"I didn't like to put it into words, but all night long I had thought ofthe Round Pond, and wondered if my Mignon was in there. I found outafterwards that your father had thought of it too, and had made allarrangements for having it dragged, though he wouldn't speak of it tome, because he fancied I had not thought of it.
"And over and over again Humphie kept saying, 'I'm sure my precious lambknows perfectly well who she is and all about herself. I'm sure of it.Why, we taught her years ago, ma'am, in case it ever happened she gotlost. "I'm Miss Mignon, and I belong to Booties," and "Captain Ferrers,the Scarlet Lancers." She knew it all, years since.'
"'Yes, but, Humphie, has any one taught her 304, Queen's Gate, S.W.?' Iasked.
"'No,' said Humphie. 'I can't say that we have.'
"'Then she might fall in with hundreds and thousands of people in Londonwho wouldn't know Captain Ferrers from Captain Jones; and she might betoo frightened to remember anything about the Scarlet Lancers. It isn'tas if we were with the regiment still.'
"The morning wore on; nothing happened. Your father went to ScotlandYard, and detectives came down and examined Hortense, who went off intofresh hysterics, and threatened to go right away and drown herself thereand then; but there was no news of Mignon. And then Algy came in andtold me they had dragged the pond, and, thank God, she wasn't there;though the suspense was almost unbearable as it was.
"But we seemed no nearer to hearing anything of her, and hardly knewwhat to be doing next, though the day was wearing away, and it washorrible to think of going through such another night as the one we hadjust passed.
"And then--just at four o'clock--a handsome carriage drew up at thedoor, and I heard Mignon's voice: 'Yes, I'm sure that's the house,' shesaid.
"Oh! I don't know how I got to the door; I think I tore it open, andran down the steps to meet her. I don't remember what I said--I think Icried. I'm sure your father nearly choked himself in trying to keep hissobs back. We nearly smothered Mignon with kisses, and it was ever solong before we had time to take any notice of the strange lady who hadbrought her home.
"'I'm afraid you've had a terrible night,' she said, with tears in hereyes. 'I found your dear little maid wandering about in SouthKensington--oh! right down in Onslow Gardens. I saw that she was not achild accustomed to being out alone, and I asked her how it was. Shewas perfectly cool and unconcerned.
"'"I've lost my maid," she said. "She sat down on a seat, and I waspicking daisies, and I don't know how, but I couldn't find her again."
"'"And what is your name?" I asked her.
"'"Oh! I'm Miss Mignon," she answered.
"'"And where do you live?" I inquired.
"'"Well, that's just what I can't remember. When I'm at home I live atFerrers Court, and when we were with the regiment, our address was, "TheScarlet Lancers"--just that. But now we are in Town, I _can't_ rememberthe name of the street. I thought when I lost Hortense that I shouldknow my way back, but I missed it somehow. And Mother will be souneasy," she ended.
"'Well,' said the lady, 'I told her she had much better come home withme, and that I would try to find out Captain Ferrers; and so I did, butwithout success. Then it occurred to me that as soon as the officeswere open I would telegraph to the Scarlet Lancers, asking for CaptainFerrers' address. And so I did; and when the answer came back, it wasyour country address--
"CAPTAIN FERRERS, _Ferrers Court,_ _Farlington, Blankshire._"
"'So I had no choice but to telegraph to Ferrers Court for your townaddress. And oh, dear lady! my heart was aching for you all the time,for I knew you must be suffering agonies," she ended, holding out herhands to me.
"And so, of course, I had been," Mrs. Ferrers went on; "but 'all's wellthat ends well'; and we at once taught Mignon the name of the house shelived in, and, indeed, for a long time we sewed a little ticket on tothe hem of her frock, so that if she did forget it, she would easilymake some one understand where she wished to be taken."
"And Hortense--what did you do with her?" Pearl asked.
"Oh! we gave her a month's wages, and sent her away," Mrs. Ferrersanswered; "and now here is Browne with the tea, Pearl. Can you manageit?"
"Oh! yes, Mother," Pearl answered. She was nearly fourteen, and lovedto make the tea now and then. "Oh! here's Miss Maitland coming! MissMaitland, _I_ am to pour out the tea. Mother says so."
"Willingly, so long as you don't scald yourself," said Miss Maitland,smiling.
"And here is Father," cried Maud. "Bootles, Mother has been telling usthe dreadful story of how Mignon was lost."
"Has she, sweetheart? Well, we don't want to go through that particularexperience any more, do we, darling?"
"No! once was once too often," said Mrs. Ferrers, slipping her hand intohis.
"Two lumps of sugar," said Pearl, bringing her father his cup.
"And muffins!" added Maud.