When I was again alone, Rosamond's tale and Betty's discomposure thereat again recurred to my mind, and I wondered what interest she could have in the matter. But I finally reflected that it was one of her bad days, when she was wont to find matter for annoyance in the simplest occurrence, and dismissing the matter from my mind I fell to thinking over another, much more important to me, namely, whether Andrew meant to ask me once more to marry him before he set sail, and if so, what I should say to him.
[CHAPTER XIII.]
THE BOOK.
IT was settled that we were to remove the next week, and Jeanne and Simon with us, for they would by no means consent to stay behind. Simon was to have charge of the out-of-door matters, the cows and pony, and Jeanne of the dairy, while Dinah was to fill the post of housekeeper and waiting-gentlewoman, with the eldest girl in the village school for a maid under her. This was as much of an establishment as my mother thought prudent, considering our means, though Aunt Amy was very pressing with us to take another maid in the home. She was very kind, and would have given us half the fine linen and blankets at the Court, and enough of comfits, wine, and other provisions for an army; and she was even inclined to be angry with my mother for accepting so little. However, all was settled amicably, and seeing how obliging she was, I ventured to prefer a humble request that she would lend me the old French cabinet in my room—a request winch she granted with alacrity, and added thereto the gift of a small Persian carpet which I greatly admired.
But I was not destined to leave Tre Madoc Court without a more serious trouble, which trouble could never have fallen upon me but for my own want of frankness, and that double-mindedness which was always my bane. I mentioned that my Aunt Jem had given me as a parting present a book of plays and poems, and that I had never showed this book to my mother. In truth, my first concealment had arisen rather from timidity and embarrassment than from wilful deception. I did not quite know what to do with the book, not liking to refuse it for fear of hurting Aunt Jem, of whom I was very fond, and I felt quite sure maman would not let me keep it, if she knew.
Of course the straight road would have been, as it ever is, the right one, but I took that middle way of compromise, which is never the right one, as I may say, and put the book at the bottom of my mail, with a half resolve to show it to my mother at the first opportunity. But in truth, in the surprise and joy of meeting Simon and Jeanne and the excitement of travelling and settling in our new home, I quite forgot it.
When I came to unpack my mail I found it. Betty was in the room, and asked what it was, and I told her its history.
"Have you not read it?" she asked, seizing and opening it. "It looks delightful."