Olivia was on the point of breaking out into a passionate assurance that no hearsay talk altered her opinion of her friends; but a certain gloom which settled on his face and gave him almost a forbidding aspect checked her, and she remembered, while a deep blush crept into her handsome cheeks, that it is unconventionally premature to call the acquaintance of half a day a friend. So she remained modestly silent while he held out his hand and told her, recovering his usual manner, that he should write a full description of her to his sister-in-law, and that Miss Denison might expect to be chartered as a district visitor before she had time or inclination to say “Jack Robinson.”
Mr. Brander then called the two maids and started them on their walk home; brought in a luncheon basket which he had left in the hall, and handed it to Lucy, telling her to open it when her mistress felt inclined for supper; and, before Olivia could thank him for this fresh proof of his kindness, he was already out of the house.
The door had scarcely closed upon him when Lucy, with an exclamation of horror and disgust, flung down the luncheon basket, and, running to the nearest window, threw it wide open.
“What are you doing, Lucy?” asked her mistress in astonishment, crossing quickly to the girl to see whether she was ill.
“Airing the place, miss, after that bad, wicked man,” answered the little maid, vehemently.
“You ungrateful girl, after all Mr. Brander has done for us. How can you say such things?”
“I say what I know, miss, and what is known all over the place, miss, to every one but you,” answered Lucy, her face crimson with excitement. “He’s a murderer, miss; he murdered the poor girl who used to live in those rooms upstairs.”
Olivia was standing at the window, with her hand on the latch to close it. Just as Lucy hissed out those words in a voice shrill and broken with horror, Mr. Brander passed. The light from the room fell full upon his face. He had heard the girl’s words. A look, not of indignation, but of shame, of agony, convulsed his pale features, but he did not turn his head. Olivia shivered. She wanted to call out to him, to ask him to deny this infamous slander; but her mouth was dry and the words would not come. For he must have heard, she knew, and yet there was no denial in his face.
With a trembling hand she closed the window.
“There, it’s quite upset you; I knew it would, Miss Olivia,” said Lucy, rather triumphantly. “Aren’t you shocked?”