CHARLOTTE rose, work in hand, and went toward the door, they following her with their eyes, desiring her obedience and approving of it, and yet curious to ascertain what was passing in her mind. For that she was unusually stirred was evident from her manner, which was that of one who had been beaten down all her life, and in whom the seeds of rebellion were struggling to force themselves into light. Suddenly she turned and faced them, and they saw in her eyes the spirit of a brave resolve.
"You have spoken plainly to me," she said. "I must speak plainly to you."
"Go to your room this instant," sternly said her mother.
That the hard cold voice should have given her fresh courage, was a novel experience to them; generally it compelled obedience, but now it had failed. It seemed, indeed, as if she had burst the bonds of oppression which had held her fast for so many years.
"Not till I have said what I have to say, mother. It is something you ought to hear." She paused a moment before she continued. "It is three years ago this very day since we had our last conversation about Mr. Dixon."
"Really!" exclaimed Mrs. Fox-Cordery, and would have expressed herself more violently had not her son restrained her with a warning look, which meant, "Let her go on; she will be sure to commit herself."
"Mr. Dixon was in the habit for some time of coming regularly to the house, and his visits formed the pleasantest remembrances in my life, with the exception of the happy years when my dear father was alive."
"Your dear father, indeed!" was Mrs. Fox-Cordery's scornful comment.
"From the date of my dear father's death," said Charlotte steadily; she was speaking now calmly and resolutely, "Mr. Dixon is the only gentleman who has shown me any consideration, and who has made me feel that I have some claim to a higher position in this house than that of a menial. I am ignorant of the nature of his business with Fox----"
"I will enlighten you," interposed Mr. Fox-Cordery; "he was in my employ, a paid servant."