She went again on deck. By this time she was in a passion—little mollified by the sense of her helplessness.
“MacPhail,” she said, laying the restraint of dignified utterance upon her words, “I desire you to give me a good reason for your most unaccountable behaviour. Where are you taking me?”
“To Lossie House, my lady.”
“Indeed!” she returned with scornful and contemptuous surprise. “Then I order you to change your course at once and return to London.”
“I cannot, my lady.”
“Cannot! Whose orders but mine are you under, pray?”
“Your father’s, my lady.”
“I have heard more than enough of that unfortunate—statement, and the measureless assumptions founded on it. I shall heed it no longer.”
“I am only doing my best to take care of you, my lady, as I promised him. You will know it one day if you will but trust me.”
“I have trusted you ten times too much, and have gained nothing in return but reasons for repenting it. Like all other servants made too much of you have grown insolent. But I shall put a stop to it. I cannot possibly keep you in my service after this. Am I to pay a master where I want a servant?”