Claude suffered bitterly for this when the lawyer was gone, but she forbore to speak. She felt that she was forced to give up the hints and friendly counsel of one whom her father trusted, and she trembled lest there should be a breach with regard to Mary, and that she should lose her. Sarah Woodham had been abused and insulted almost beyond bearing a hundred times, and ordered to go, but she always smiled sadly in Claude’s face afterwards.
“Don’t you be afraid, my dear,” she used to say. “Let him say what he will, I’ll never leave you.”
One day Sarah Woodham entered the room to find Mary in tears, but as they were hastily dried, they were ignored.
“I beg pardon, miss; I thought Mr Trevithick was here.”
“Why should you think that?”
“Because I saw him at the hotel half-an-hour ago.”
“No; he has not been, and is not likely to come after such treatment as he received from Mr Glyddyr a fortnight ago.”
“Going out, miss?” said Sarah, as she saw Mary beginning to dress hurriedly.
“Yes. Where is your master—in the garden?”
“No, miss. He has gone down to the quarry.”