But the Countess had finer opportunities than ever with Dorothy; for
Lady Mottisfont was often indisposed, and even at other times could
not honestly hinder an intercourse which gave bright ideas to the
child. Dorothy welcomed her new acquaintance with a strange and
instinctive readiness that intimated the wonderful subtlety of the
threads which bind flesh and flesh together.
At last the crisis came: it was precipitated by an accident.
Dorothy and her nurse had gone out one day for an airing, leaving
Lady Mottisfont alone indoors. While she sat gloomily thinking that
in all likelihood the Countess would contrive to meet the child
somewhere, and exchange a few tender words with her, Sir Ashley
Mottisfont rushed in and informed her that Dorothy had just had the
narrowest possible escape from death. Some workmen were undermining
a house to pull it down for rebuilding, when, without warning, the
front wall inclined slowly outwards for its fall, the nurse and
child passing beneath it at the same moment. The fall was
temporarily arrested by the scaffolding, while in the meantime the
Countess had witnessed their imminent danger from the other side of
the street. Springing across, she snatched Dorothy from under the
wall, and pulled the nurse after her, the middle of the way being
barely reached before they were enveloped in the dense dust of the
descending mass, though not a stone touched them.
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