His eyes said, “Forgive me,” but his lips only said, “Good-by,” and the carriage rolled away.
Then, being a woman, two great tears fell on the hand still red with the lingering grasp he had given it, and Christie said, as pitifully as if she loved him:
“He has got a heart, after all, and perhaps I might have been glad to fill it if he had only shown it to me sooner. Now it is too late.”
CHAPTER V.
COMPANION.
Before she had time to find a new situation, Christie received a note from Miss Tudor, saying that hearing she had left Mrs. Saltonstall she wanted to offer her the place of companion to an invalid girl, where the duties were light and the compensation large.
“How kind of her to think of me,” said Christie, gratefully. “I’ll go at once and do my best to secure it, for it must be a good thing or she wouldn’t recommend it.”
Away went Christie to the address sent by Miss Tudor, and as she waited at the door she thought:
“What a happy family the Carrols must be!” for the house was one of an imposing block in a West End square, which had its own little park where a fountain sparkled in the autumn sunshine, and pretty children played among the fallen leaves.
Mrs. Carrol was a stately woman, still beautiful in spite of her fifty years. But though there were few lines on her forehead, few silver threads in the dark hair that lay smoothly over it, and a gracious smile showed the fine teeth, an indescribable expression of unsubmissive sorrow touched the whole face, betraying that life had brought some heavy cross, from which her wealth could purchase no release, for which her pride could find no effectual screen.
She looked at Christie with a searching eye, listened attentively when she spoke, and seemed testing her with covert care as if the place she was to fill demanded some unusual gift or skill.