“What has happened?” repeated Isa, addressing herself to the lad, who had risen from his seat on the entrance of the lady.
Steady tugged hard at the button of his jacket; his nostrils dilated; he looked first to one side and then to the other, an image of dull perplexity. He jerked out the answer, “She won’t tell no one;” and then, unable to bear another interview like that which had just passed between his sister and Mr. Eardley, the poor lad shuffled hastily out of the room.
Isa went up to Lottie Stone, and gently laid her hand on her shoulder. “If you have had anything to pain and distress you, open your heart to me. I am not angry with you, Lottie, though you did wrong to leave the house without giving notice. I am willing to take you back if you tell me frankly the cause of your going.”
“I can’t tell,” replied Lottie in a choking voice.
MISS ISA QUESTIONS LOTTIE.
“Something that was said distressed you, perhaps. Was it what your master spoke about drinking, when you threw down the weights last evening?”
Isa’s question suddenly opened for the young maid a little door of escape. The lady had found out a cause for Lottie’s strange conduct when she herself could give none. Would there be any harm in leaving Miss Gritton to think, and to lead others to think, that the whole strange affair had arisen from a burst of passionate feeling, caused by an accusation which had been both unjust and cruel? A disingenuous girl would have gladly availed herself of the lady’s mistaken view, and have left her to form her own conclusions from it. But Lottie had the straightforward simplicity of one in whose spirit there is no guile. She shook her head on Isa’s repeating her question, and her mistress remained more perplexed than ever. Isa felt, as Mr. Eardley had felt, surprised, discouraged, and at length a little displeased. Lottie would neither apologize, nor explain, nor consent to go back to her place. No sentence could be wrung from her lips but a repetition of “I can’t tell,” “I can never go back;” and yet her manner expressed fervent, grateful affection towards her young mistress. Isa was convinced that the girl’s obstinate reserve was not that of indifference or of pride.
“Lottie, you quite grieve me,” said Isa at length, as she turned to depart, lingering at the open door with her fingers on the handle, to give the girl an opportunity of calling her back.
Lottie clutched her own black hair with both her hands, and tore it, as if physical pain could relieve the anguish of her heart. She turned suddenly away to the window, to escape as far as she could from the presence of her lady. Edith, waiting in the carriage below, chanced to glance up at the moment, and caught sight of a young face clouded with an expression of such misery as she had never seen on a countenance before.