“It is worth more because of its rarity, then, Maggie,” Frances said, warming over with blushes at this ingenuous praise. “Do they let you go into his room?”
“The door is open to the servant,” Maggie replied, with solemn nod.
“It is closed to me—did you know?”
“I know. Miss tells you it is orders from some captain, some general, some soldier I do not know what”—a sweeping gesture to include all soldiers, great and small and far away—“but that is a lie. It came out of her own heart. She is a traitor to friendship, as well as a thief.”
“Yes, I believed that from the beginning, Maggie.”
“This house of deceit is not a place for me, for even servant that I am, I am a true servant. But I will not lie for a liar, nor be traitor for one who deceives a friend. I shall go from here. Perhaps when you are married to Mr. Macdonald you will have room in your kitchen for me?”
“We must not build on shadows, Maggie.”
“And there is that Alvino, a cunning man in a 289 garden. You should see how he charms the flowers and vegetables—but you have seen, it is his work here, all this is his work.”
“If there is ever a home of my own—if it ever comes to that happiness—”
“God hasten the day!”