Then she sat near the window and watched the gloomy September rain pattering drearily down, and the white mist rising from the sea.
The door opened and Celine came in softly, and sat down.
"I want to talk to you a little, Mary," she said, in her low voice. "Shall I disturb the child?"
"Not if you talk softly," replied Golden, hoping that Celine would tell her something about Glenalvan Hall.
She was not disappointed, for the maid said at once:
"I want to tell you about a queer old black woman I saw at that place where Mr. Chesleigh was ill—Glenalvan Hall," watching her narrowly.
Golden started and looked up eagerly.
"Yes, tell me about her, Celine," she said, with repressed excitement.
"Well, to begin with," said Celine, "she was a most ridiculous-looking old creature, full of grumblings and complaints. This old creature when she found I was from New York, came to me secretly, and asked me the oddest question."
Golden, chancing to look up at that moment, met Celine's eyes fixed upon her with such a strange expression that her heart gave a frightened bound. It was evident that the maid had some suspicions of her.