“There now, sit down. As there’s no one here but you and me, you know, you can draw the end of the sofy to the table and loll on that, while I pour out your tea and butter you a biscuit. Cæsar, you cut up that pa’tridge for your young mist’ess—not that one, you stupid creetur! t’other one, it’s the plumpest. Now you see, honey, the maids have got through their day’s work, for a wonder, and I have got time to stay in the parlor and enjoy myself ’long o’ you. And so we’ll have a jolly good evening; you can loll on the sofa and enjoy yourself with your low spirits and cologne bottle—only don’t waste it—and I can sit here and patch my old gown, and talk about old times.”
Garnet looked at the good-natured face of the old lady, and felt compunction for the answer she was about to make.
“I am sorry to spoil the plan of your evening’s entertainment, Miss Joe, but I am going to explore Hutton’s Island to-night.”
“Going to explore Hutton’s Island to-night!” exclaimed Miss Joe, dropping knife and fork, and staring at her.
“Yes.”
“You!”
“Yes.”
“The Lord have mercy upon her! I’ve been havin’ of my misgivin’s all this time, but now I know she’s a little deranged!” said Miss Joe to herself. Then speaking aloud, in something of the tone one would take in addressing a sick and delirious child, “No, no, honey, don’t think of it! You’re sick, you know, and it is cold and dark and dangerous. Then, it isn’t proper for a young lady to do such a thing, anyhow!”
Miss Seabright smiled a queer smile, as she replied:
“For the first objections, my good old friend, cowardice is not one of my weaknesses; for the last”—she paused and her smile deepened in meaning—“I made a start in life by quite innocently perpetrating a heinous, a fatal—crime? no, impropriety! I broke no law of God or man; yet I am told that for all that I shall be banished from society unless I do commit a sin, in open day, in the face of society; who will then forgive me!”