“Where did you sleep?”
“I had a little room that opened into mamma’s.”
“And where was all this growling?”
“In papa’s room. The door was just opposite to mine, and was open. All the light was there, you know. Mamma’s room was dark, but there was a candle in the dressing-room.”
“Did you see anything?”
“Only the light. It was such a moment. I don’t think I saw Mr. Maddox, but I am quite certain I heard him, for he had an odd little cough.”
“Then, Rose, I have little doubt that all this cruelty to you, poor inoffensive little being, was to hide some plots against your father.”
She caught his meaning with the quickness of a mind precocious on some points though childish on others. “Then if I had been brave and told the truth, he might never have hurt papa.”
“Mind, I do not know, and I never thought of blaming you, the chief sufferer! No, don’t begin to cry again.”
“Ah! but I did tell a lie. And I never can confess it to mamma,” she said, recurring to the sad lament so long suppressed.