"Go away, all of you," he said, authoritatively. "Find some work to do in another room for half an hour; I wish to speak to your mistress."
Margaret looked up as she heard this imperative command. She did not contradict it, she could not come to an open conflict with him before her own servants. He knew this.
Closing the door after the negroes, who, in obedience to the thorough master's voice which had fallen upon their ears, had shuffled hurriedly out in a body, Winthrop came over to the writing-table where she was seated. She had kept on with her writing.
"You don't care any more about that list, about any of these trifling things, than I do," he began; "why do you pretend to care? And why do you make it so impossible for me to speak to you? What are you afraid of?"
She did not answer. And he did not get the satisfaction he had anticipated from his question, because her face was bent over her paper.
"Why are you going north?" he went on, abruptly.
"I need a change."
"You cannot live all alone in New York."
"I shall not be in New York. And I could easily have a companion."
"Your best companion is Aunt Katrina. I admit that she is selfish; but she is growing old, and she is ill. Who, after all, is nearer to you?"