Chapter Forty Three.
“Curse you! Do you hear what I say?” roared Garstang, furiously; “leave the room!”
“No, sir, I won’t!” cried the housekeeper, as she stood sobbing and wringing her hands by Kate’s side. “It’s horrible; it’s shameful!”
“Silence!”
“No, I won’t be silenced now,” cried the woman. “You’re my master, and I’ve done everything you told me up to now, for I thought she was only holding back, and that at last she’d consent and be happy with you; but you’re not the good man I thought you were, and the poor dear knew you better than I did; and I wouldn’t leave her now, not if I died for it—so there!”
“Come, come,” said Garstang, hurriedly; “don’t be absurd, Sarah. You are excited, and don’t know what you are saying.”
“I never knew better what I was saying, sir,” cried the woman, passionately. “Absurd! Oh, God forgive you—you wicked wretch! And forgive me too for listening to you to-day. You took me by surprise, you did, and I didn’t see the full meaning of it all. Oh, it’s shameful!—it’s horrible! And I believe you’ve killed her; and we shall all be hung, and serve us right, only I hope poor Becky, who is innocent as a lamb, will get off.”
“Look here, Sarah, my good woman; you are frightened, and without cause.”