At last a low scratching sound made itself heard.
Eweretta sprang up and listened.
“Miss Aimée!” came in a sharp whisper. “I got the key. He is drunk and Mrs. Le Breton is out.”
The grating sound of the key as it turned in the lock was like music to the ears of the unhappy girl.
It was Mattie, the cook, who had often before secretly befriended her. Mattie thoroughly believed that poor Eweretta was mad Aimée Le Breton, but she humored her by pretending to believe otherwise. She believed Mr. Alvin’s assertion that the poor girl was at times violent, and that it was necessary to control her. But the servant’s kind heart grieved for the unfortunate girl.
“Come with me, miss, and have a meal before the master wakes, and before the missis comes back from Hastings.”
“Are you not afraid of me, Mattie?” asked Eweretta with a pitiful effort at raillery.
“Afraid of you! No, dear heart! You need not tread softly, Mr. Alvin has drunk enough to keep him asleep till the dead rise at the last day. What a pity he ever drinks. He is kind enough when sober.”
It was in the kitchen that Mattie served a good meal for Eweretta, which she ate ravenously—for she had deprived herself of food so much from fear of her brain being dulled by drugs. Her brain was clear enough to-day.
Mattie, who had come from Montreal—engaged there at the same time as her fellow-servants, Faith and Pierre, was homesick for her beloved Canada, and perhaps this made her the more sympathetic with this unhappy Canadian girl, who was moreover so beautiful.