Elsie could not raise her eyes to his, such a tumult of wounded feeling, love, shame, and regret surged through her breast, and Herbert was obliged to depart without the glance he coveted. Elsie listened to his merry whistle as he ran down the stairs, and cowered, shamefaced and despairing, in the shadow of the window curtain. How weak she had been! She had struggled so hard not to notice him, not to think of him, and all the time the victim of a relentless fate, had at last yielded to his kiss and let him see she had given her love unasked! What a state of moral degradation she had reached! How Margaret would despise her if she knew it! How everybody with any fine moral sense would be contaminated with her presence if it was known how really bad she was!
Sleep did not visit the perturbed brain that night. In dry-eyed misery she lay through the long hours of darkness by Margaret’s side, and when at the first break of dawn she returned to her work, she carried a pale, conscience-stricken face. The other servants eyed her curiously, giving her already crushed spirit unmistakable evidence that William had heralded the evening’s adventure. It was with lagging footsteps and a colorless face that she dragged through her morning’s duties, and finally mounted the stairs to her usual conference with her mistress.
Mrs. Mason was alone when Elsie entered the morning-room, but she did not look up. She was apparently busied over a small account-book, in which, with the gold pencil attached to it, she now and then jotted down figures or memoranda. The coals in the grate glowed warmly; the mocking-bird in his gilded cage chirped cheerily; the flowers and potted plants in the windows seemed to smile a welcome to the disheartened girl, but the fair mistress had no greeting for her. Elsie waited some moments, and then, seeing that Mrs. Mason was purposely silent, she asked, but with a note of despondency in her voice that was only too apparent, “What orders, Mrs. Mason, have you for me this morning?”
“Only one,” replied the lady, for the first time turning a darkened face upon Elsie. “Take this envelope, containing your week’s wages, and leave my house at once. I have no further need of your services.”
The room grew so dark to Elsie that she reeled and clutched at the door-post. Mrs. Mason watched her, secretly glad to see the shaft strike home.
“Will you tell me why you dismiss me?” asked Elsie faintly.
“Why? How innocent you are! You know very well why I will not keep such a dissembler in my house. Attempting to deceive me with your assumption of flawless honor, and then using all your arts and graces to ensnare the fancy of my brother, who——”
“Stop!” cried Elsie, all her strength returning under the sting of Mrs. Mason’s words, and with indignation firing voice and attitude. “You make unjust accusations. I never have deceived you in any particular. I never sought to ensnare the fancy of your brother. Instead, I have begged him to let me alone. I told him I did not want his acquaintance, and I repeat it to you, his proud and aristocratic sister. I have my own life to live irrespective of your creeds and caste, and I have endeavored to keep both of you at arm’s-length.”
“You are as brazen as the generality of your class. It is useless to attempt any justification. The fact remains that you have accepted the attentions of a man infinitely above you in station, good-breeding, blood——”
“I deny it! Neither in blood nor breeding are you any better than the girl you despise. In station—you but emphasize the arrogance of your nature and standing when you attempt to heap unmerited abuse upon one whom you know to be defenceless; a thing which ‘Elsie the cook’ would scorn to do.”