“Mrs. Stirling, do you wonder now at my son’s running away from his home?”
“Indeed I am fairly astonished at what I see and hear.”
“Sophy, you foolish woman, do not make any greater exhibit of yourself that you have done. For heaven’s sake, go to your own room. I have only my own letter, and I told you all of importance in it.”
“Every servant in the house knows that the letter was mine.”
“What the servants know is nothing to me. Now, Sophy, I will stand no more of this; either you leave the room, or Mrs. Stirling and I will do so. Remember that you have betrayed yourself. I am not to blame.”
“What do you mean, Madame?”
“I mean that you may have hallucinations, but that you need not exhibit them to the world. For my son’s sake, I demand that you go to your room.”
“I want my letter. For God’s sake, have pity on me, and give me my letter!”
Madame did not answer, but she took her friend by the arm and they left the room together. In the hall Madame saw a servant, and she said blandly—
“Go and tell Leslie to look after her mistress, she is in the parlour. And you may also tell Leslie that if she allows her to come down again in her present mood, she will be dismissed.”