“Not to help a poor sister in distress?” said Kate, appealingly.
“You ain’t my sister, and I must go. If he knew I’d talked to you he’d be so cross.”
With a sudden snatch the girl released her dress and fled, leaving Kate striving hard to keep back her tears, as she went on to the broad landing and reached her room, thinking of the little library and the account she had heard of the former occupant, who found life too weary for him, and had sought rest.
Her first impulse was to lock her door, but feeling that she had nothing immediate to fear, and that perhaps a display of acquiescence in Garstang’s plans might help her to escape, she sat down to think, or rather try to think, for her brain was in a whirl, and thought crowded out thought before she had time to grasp one.
But she had hardly commenced her fight when there was a tap at the door, and Sarah Plant entered with a breakfast tray, looking smiling and animated.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am; but I’ve made you a very strong cup of tea, and your breakfast will do you good. There. Now let me help you off with your things.”
“No, no, never mind now. Mrs Plant, will you do something to help me?”
“Of course, I will, ma’am. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”
“Why are you smiling at me in that way?”
“Me smiling, ma’am? Was I? Oh, nothing.”