“If it be to humiliate me by the spectacle of my own inefficiency, a day or a week will suffice for that; years could not teach me more.”
Henderson bowed what possibly might mean an acquiescence.
“I don't speak of the estate,” cried she, earnestly; “but what 's to become of the people?”
“Many o' them will emigrate, miss, I've no doubt,” said he, “when they see there 's nothing to bide for.”
“You take it easily, sir. You see little hardships in men having to leave home and country; but I tell you that home may be poor and country cruel, and yet both very hard to part with.”
“That 's vara true, miss,” was the dry response.
“For anything there is now to be done here, you, sir, are to the full as competent as I am. I ask again, To what end am I here?”
Giving to her question a very different significance from what she intended, Henderson calmly said, “I thought, miss, it was just yer ain wish, and for no other reason.”
Mary's cheek became crimson, and her eyes flashed with angry indignation; but repressing the passion that was bursting within her, she walked hastily up and down the room in silence. At length, opening a large colored map of the estate which lay on the table, she stood attentively considering it for some time. “The works at Carrigulone are stopped?” said she, hastily.
“Yes, miss.”