Here Tabitha broke down altogether, and sobbed aloud.
“Come, come, my good soul, don’t distress yourself,” cried Disney, touched by this emotion. “You loved her; you could not help loving her, could you? And yet you left her.”
“I was getting tired and old, sir; and I had saved enough money to furnish a small house; and my sister, Mrs. David, being a widow without chick or child, wanted me to join her in a lodging-house at the seaside. She’s a beautiful cook, is my sister, much better than ever I was. So perhaps I was over-persuaded: and here I am. What’s done cannot be undone, Captain Martin; but if ever Mrs. Disney should be ill or in grief or trouble, and she should want me, I’ll go to her without an hour’s loss of time. I can never forget that she is your wife, and that she was a kind mistress to me.”
Martin Disney breathed more freely after this speech. He had been curiously disturbed at the idea of a breach between his wife and the old and faithful servant.
“Well, Tabby, I’m glad at least you and my wife are not ill friends,” he said. “I do not care for the loosening of old ties. And now I must be off. Mrs. Disney is waiting for me at the Green Bank.”
Tabitha seemed a little startled on hearing that her late mistress was in Falmouth, but she made no remark upon the fact.
“Good-bye, Tabby. Stay, there’s one favour you can do me. Get me a good cook. The woman we have at present would be a blight upon the happiest home in Christendom.”
“I’ll find you a better one, sir. I’ll set about hunting for a good one this afternoon.”
Martin shook hands with her on the door-step, and she stood watching him till he disappeared at the turn of the road. She watched him with a countenance full of sorrow.