"You!"—said Mrs. Rigby, with what appeared to the other withering contempt, "you!——"
"He put it very beautifully," continued Miss Wellow; her voice was now almost inaudible, but Mrs. Rigby caught the word and repeated it with terrible irony:
"Beautifully!" she said,—"beautifully!"
Matilda shrank back as though she feared the other was about to strike her, but Mrs. Rigby did not see the gesture.
"And did he tell you when he proposes to bring——" she made a scarcely perceptible pause and then shot out the words—"his bride home. If it's to-morrow, I'll make Matt take me away to-night!"
"He's not going to bring her home," said Matilda, quietly. "He's never coming back himself; they are going right away—out of England."
"A good thing too!" said Mrs. Rigby.
"He says that will be more respectful to me; he has considered my feelings, Kate—he has indeed."
"Has he? Why——" she suddenly held up a warning finger, for there was a sound of footsteps in the passage; the sound stopped outside the door, and both women instinctively held their breath, united by a common fear of servants' gossip.
There was a long pause, and then the handle of the door was slowly turned, and Mr. Rigby came into the room, his ruddy colour gone, or rather lying in curious streaks across his face, a nervous smile hovering over his lips.