"I wish from my heart he'd marry her," I thought.
"But she won't have him," said Lottie, as if answering my thought. "At any rate, not yet."
"Well, well, Lottie, tell me what brings you here? My head aches."
"So does mine," said Lottie, lifting a hand to her head, and pressing her forehead hard with the palm. "Well, Miss Hyde, a little while ago, Mr. Lee and Mrs. Babylon were sitting on the platform under this very window. It was just after the rain, and they happened to meet as he was coming out to enjoy the sunshine. I happened in the same way to be dusting the sofa close by the window, and it took me a good while. Don't put up your hand, Miss Hyde, you'd 'a' listened yourself. She was talking about you."
"About me?"
"Yes. I can't give the words; but she was saying, in her silky way, that Miss Jessie was so much altered since she met her at the sea-shore, so obstinate and demonstrative, vulgarized, as one might say, if anything so very beautiful could be vulgarized. But didn't Mr. Lee think that a companion who followed her pupil into society was rather a drawback, and apt to get a predominating influence over that of the parents? Was he certain of Miss Jessie's friend,—of her prudence and disinterestedness? Of course, she had no right to give an opinion: but when the time came for a young lady to enter society, was there no reason to think that a household companion, like Miss Hyde, might become a dangerous counsellor? Of course, Mr. Lee knew best, his wisdom was never at fault; but would not a companion, perfectly dependent, and who had some experience in society, produce a better result?
"I wish you could 'a' seen Mr. Lee's face, Miss Hyde. He looked up all of a sudden, and his eyes flashed fire; Babylon saw it, and looked down as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth; and then he took her hand in his,—it wasn't the first time, Miss Hyde, I'd bet my head on that, for it all came too easy—and I've seen what I have seen;—then he said how difficult it was to find such a person,—one who was an ornament to society, and yet willing to live in a place like that which Mrs. Lee's illness made, in some sort, like a prison.
"She left her hand in his, and lifted her eyes to his face sideways—you know how—and said a few words almost in a whisper. I couldn't catch the first word, but he turned red as fire and lifted her hand to his lips, almost; then he dropped it again and begged her pardon."
I had no power to stop Lottie's narrative. The import of this conversation struck me with a sudden pang. It seemed as if sentence of death had been pronounced upon me. What could I do? Where on earth was a home like that to be found? What would Jessie and Mrs. Lee do without me? That woman in my place! The thought was anguish. I almost hated her.
Lottie stood by the bed, looking at me, with trouble in her face.