“Then I will, for I’ve had charge of you ever since you were such a little dot. Miss Gertrude, my dear, it won’t do.”
“Denton?”
“I’m seeing too much, my dear, and if poor master was alive he’d say what I say, ‘It won’t do.’”
“What do you mean?” cried Gertrude, with her heart beating wildly.
“Master George is no husband for you, my dear, no more than Mr Saul is. Drink, and smoke, and cards, and bets. No, no, no, my dear, darling child; never mind the money, and the purple, and the fine linen. You’ve got your hundred a year, and I’ve got my annuity, as shall be yours, so let’s go and take a cottage and live together; for if I stay here much longer, and see what’s going on, it will break my heart.”
And in proof of her earnestness the old lady sank upon her knees and covered her face with her apron, sobbing violently in spite of comforting words, till there was the rustle of silk upon the stairs, when she rose from her knees, kissed Gertrude quickly, and hurried out of the room.
Gertrude did not go for a walk, but sat alone thinking about her future life, and the clouds grew darker and seemed to close her in.