She silently resolved that she would leave Mrs. Desmond the next day, proceed to New York, and make an effort to find her mother.
Meanwhile the irate maid had gone to Elinor's room. Mrs. Desmond had kindly promised to allow Celine to superintend her toilet while they remained at the seaside, and she was waiting now for the Frenchwoman to arrange her hair.
Celine had become possessed of Golden's secret, and she was determined to make capital out of it for herself.
Elinor was quite chatty and confidential with the skillful French maid. In a very few moments while she was braiding the young lady's hair she had dropped a few artful hints and innuendoes that made Elinor start up half wild with fear and terror.
"Oh, no, Celine, you must have imagined it. It is too incredible to believe!"
"I do not ask you to believe my simple word, Miss Glenalvan," replied Celine. "Look at the girl yourself, ma'am, and then you can tell me if my suspicions are well founded."
Elinor looked at her blankly for a moment. The maid returned her gaze with unruffled serenity.
"Only take a good look at her yourself, miss," she repeated.
"How am I to do so without exciting her suspicions?" demanded Elinor.