“You are not, of course, to go to Mr. Remington. It is my matter, and does not concern him. What I wish is this: You are to come to the parlor only when invited, and are not to intrude upon us at any time, particularly when company is here, such as—well, such as Dr. Holbrook, if you please. As you cannot be with Jessie all the while, you will, when your duties as governess are over, sit in your own room, or the school-room, or walk in the back yard, just as the higher servants do—such as Mrs. Noah and the seamstress, Sarah. Occasionally we shall have you in to dine with us, but usually you will take your meals with Mrs. Noah and Sarah. By following these directions you will, I think, give entire satisfaction.”
When Mrs. Agnes had finished, Maddy began to understand her position, and into her white face the hot blood poured indignantly. Wholly inexperienced, she had never dreamed that a governess was not worthy to sit at the same table with her employer, that she must never enter the parlors unbidden, or intrude herself in any way, and her cheeks burned at the degradation, and for an instant she felt like defying the proud woman to her face. But the angry words trembling on her tongue were repressed as she remembered her grandfather’s teachings; and with a bow as haughty as any Mrs. Agnes could have made, and a look on her face which could not easily be forgotten, she left the room, and in a kind of stunned bewilderment sought the garden, where she could, unseen, give way to her feelings.
Once alone, the torrent burst forth, and burying her face in the soft grass, she wept bitterly, never hearing the step coming near, and not at first heeding the voice which asked what was the matter. Guy Remington, too, had come out into the garden, and accidentally wandering that way, stumbled upon the little figure crying in the grass. He knew it was Maddy, and greatly surprised to find her thus, asked what was the matter. Then, as she did not hear him, he laid his hand gently upon her shoulder, compelling her to look up. In all her imaginings of Guy, she had never associated him with the man who had so puzzled and confused her, and now she did not for a time suspect the truth. She only thought the stranger a guest at Aikenside; some one come with Guy; and her degradation seemed greater than before. She was not surprised when he called her by name; of course he remembered her, just as she did him; but she did wonder a little what Mrs. Agnes would say, could she know how kindly he spoke to her as he lifted her from the grass and led her to a rustic seat at no great distance from them.
“Now, tell me why you are crying so?” he said, brushing from her apron the spot of dirt which had settled upon it. “Are you homesick?” he continued, and then Maddy burst out crying harder than before.
She forgot that he was a stranger, forgot everything except that he sympathized with her.
“Oh, sir,” she sobbed, “I was so happy here till they came home, Mrs. Remington and Mr. Guy. I never thought it was a disgrace to be a governess; never heard it was so considered, or that I was not good enough to sit with them and eat with them till she told me so. Oh, dear, dear!” and choked with tears, Maddy stopped a moment to take breath.
She did not look up at the young man beside her, and it was well she did not, for the dark expression of his face would have frightened her. Half guessing the truth, and impatient to hear more, he said to her:
“Go on!” so sternly, that she started, and replied:
“I know you are angry with me and I ought not to have told you.”
“I am not angry—not at you, at least—go on,” was Guy’s reply, and Maddy continued: