“But—but—”
“I was on the staircase watching for you, dear, and you were shut up here so long, instead of being with master, that I was afraid you were ill.”
“Well, I’m not; so now go, there’s a good girl; and wait a bit till I’ve settled something about you.”
“Settled something about me, dear! Why, as soon as poor dear master’s dead you’ll be master then, and can do as you like. You won’t be the first gentleman who has married a servant.”
“Oh no, of course not,” he replied, with a bitter sarcasm in his tone.
“And you will make me happy then, won’t you, dear? For I am so miserable when I see you courting Miss Janet, I could find it in my heart to go some night to the Serpentine and end it all.”
“Will you hold your tongue?” he cried, with a shiver. “Do you think I haven’t enough to worry me as it is? Now, my good girl, is this a time for you to come bothering me?”
“I’m not a good girl,” she replied with spirit; “and it’s cruel of you, in your man’s selfishness, to talk of my bothering you. No, no, no, I won’t be angry with you,” she cried, hurriedly changing her tone. “And now, dear, that you can do as you like, you will not think of Miss Janet any more.”
“Wait,” he said sullenly; “and now go. Do you think I want the servants to be tattling about your being shut up here?”
“Let them tattle,” cried the girl proudly. “Let them, if they dare. They shall soon find that I’m their mistress. Tattle, indeed!”