“I should never have disliked you if you had not over and over again shown that you hated me, and that it was distasteful to you even to have to serve me. And, as to your going away, I heard about it only this morning through asking Jane why she was doing my room.”
I blushed as I said this; but I could not confess to Sarah that the first mention I had heard of her departure was when I was listening outside the door of this very room on the night before.
“Then you don’t want me to go away?”
“It doesn’t matter to me whether you go or stay, as I have packed my boxes, and am going back to London myself this very afternoon.”
Sarah stared. Then she gave a disagreeable laugh.
“You won’t go,” said she.
“You can go upstairs and look at my boxes,” I said indignantly.
“Have you spoken to Mr. Rayner about it yet, may I ask, miss?” said she dryly.
“Not yet; but I am going to tell him this morning.”
“Then would you mind, before you go, miss”—she laid a peculiar emphasis on these words—“asking Mr. Rayner to let me stay? It won’t matter to you, you see; but it’s more to me than I can tell.”