“You wish for instructions, Margery,” said he, “take them now. You shall obey this lady as you would myself. While she remains here you shall treat her as my honoured guest. Long may it be! And further, if she so pleases, Mr. Rickart’s daughter shall be looked upon as mistress at Bindon. And what she does or orders to be done shall be well done for me.”
Margery dipped humble acquiescence to each command.
Ellinor had not thought those dreamy eyes of David’s could give so cold and yet angry a flash. His brows were hardly knitted, and his voice, though raised to extra clearness, was singularly under control; yet she had a sudden revelation, not only of present anger in the man, but of an extraordinary capacity for strong emotion. And she thought that if ever an evil fate should bring her beneath his wrath, it would be more than she could bear.
“Go, now,” said Sir David, still addressing his servant, “but remember, and let the household remember, that though I prefer to watch the stars rather than your doings, I am not really blind to what goes on.”
“I am truly glad, sir, to be authorised to give the servants any message from you,” said Mrs. Nutmeg.
She reached the door, paused and threw one of her expressionless glances for no longer than a second or two towards Ellinor; raising her eyes, however, no higher than the knees. Then the door closed softly upon the retreating figure.
David’s slightly slackened grasp was tightened for a moment round his cousin’s fingers, then it relinquished them.
“Forgive me, Ellinor,” said he, “a bad master makes a bad host.”
“David,” said she, looking him bravely in the eyes, “I have hardly a guinea in the world.”
“Oh,” he cried quickly, “you humiliate me——”