"Oh, I dare say! With a virtuous air, just showing what you meant! And I'll have my revenge!"
"Is that Christian, Miss Millington?" I asked. It was grievous to see her look. "I cannot pretend to think that you have acted rightly towards me, or with the girls. But I have done my best to keep from influencing Mrs. Romilly. If you go, it is not my doing."
"But I say it is," she retorted violently. "And I'll never forget,—never! I've got you in my power too, though you mayn't think it, and I'll make you feel my power. I tell you I will."
"How am I in your power?" I asked.
A kind of chill ran through me at the words. I thought of her stealthy peep at my journal. But I could not tax her with that; I had promised not to compromise Elfie.
She burst into angry sobs. "It doesn't matter how. You've nothing to do with what I mean. I know, and that's enough. I'll never forget,—never!—what I owe to you. I'm to leave, and I'm not to be recommended, and it is all your doing. If my mother and sister come to want, that's all your doing too! And I'll be revenged! Sneaking and telling lies like that! But I declare I'll have my revenge! I'll be even with you!"
"Miss Millington!" an astonished voice said close behind her, and Mrs. Romilly appeared, passing round the clump of bushes which shut off the house. "Is this Miss Millington speaking? I can hardly believe my own ears."
The girl looked down sullenly, crimson and sobbing.
"Miss Millington is under a mistake," I said. "She believes that I have influenced you, Mrs. Romilly, in deciding to part with her."
"And if you had!—What then? You are my friend. When I asked your advice, you declined to give it: but I had a right to ask."