"Don't speak in that sarcastic manner. It does not sound respectable to one's guardian."
She was growing paler, and all her old aversion to him was legible in her countenance.
"Let us be friends. Try to be a patient, cheerful girl."
"Patient,—I will try. Cheerful,—no, no, not here! How can I be happy in this house? Am I a brute, or a stone? Oh! I wish I could have died with my dear, dear Mr. Hargrove, that calm night when he went to rest for ever while I sang!"
One by one the tears stole over her long lashes, and rolled swiftly down her cheeks.
"Will you tell me the circumstances of his death?"
"Please do not ask me now. It would bring back all the sad things that began when Mr. Lindsay left me. Everything was so bright until then,—until he went away. Since then nothing but trouble, trouble."
A frown clouded the lawyer's brow; then with a half smile he asked:
"Of the two ministers, who did you love best? Mr. Hargrove, or the young missionary?"
"I do not know, both were so noble, good, and kind; and both are so very dear to me. Mr. Palma, please let go my hand; you hurt me."