“When I—but I never intend to leave you, sir!” said Alice, beginning fearfully and ending calmly.
Maltravers had recourse to the meerschaum.
Luckily, perhaps, at this time, they were joined by Mr. Simcox, the old writing-master. Alice went in to prepare her books; but Maltravers laid his hand upon the preceptor’s shoulder.
“You have a quick pupil, I hope, sir?” said he.
“Oh, very, very, Mr. Butler. She comes on famously. She practises a great deal when I am away, and I do my best.”
“And,” asked Maltravers, in a grave tone, “have you succeeded in instilling into the poor child’s mind some of those more sacred notions of which I spoke to you at our first meeting?”
“Why, sir, she was indeed quite a heathen—quite a Mahometan, I may say; but she is a little better now.”
“What have you taught her?”
“That God made her.”
“That is a great step.”