Mrs Lee sighed, and after a pause, said:
“I was at Mrs Seaton’s to-day, near the mountain. There is illness in the family, and a young infant. More help is required in the nursery. You remember the twins, the pretty boys we used to see in the carriage. One of them is ill—never to be better, I fear. The other you will have the care of for the present. They are quite in the country. I think it will be good for you to be there. I think you will like it too.”
Christie thanked her as well as she was able.
“It seems unkind to you that we should change our plans at so late an hour. I should have considered sooner. But I thought more of my children, and of having you still with them, than I did of what would be best for you.”
Christie tried to say how glad she would be to go even now. Mrs Lee shook her head.
“You are not strong, and you are very young. It would be wrong to take you I know not where. It may be a long time before we return here. We may never return.” She was silent for a moment, and then continued:
“Yes, it would be wrong to take you so far from your home to share our uncertain fortunes. If you were but as strong as you are faithful and patient! But it cannot be.”
Christie ceased to struggle with her tears now, but they fell very quietly.
“As for wages,” said Mrs Lee, lifting the lid of Christie’s work-box and dropping in it a little purse, “money could never cancel the debt I owe you. I am content to owe it, Christie. I know you will not grudge your loving service to my darlings.
“And I owe you more than that,” she added, after a pause. “Christie, when the time comes when all these chafings and changes shall be over, when seeing the reason of them we shall bless God for them, we shall be friends then, I humbly hope. And you must tell your sister—no, you could never tell her. I wish I had seen your friend, John Nesbitt, when he was here; but I will write. And Christie, my brave girl, look up. See what I have for you.”