Mildred did not exactly relish saying so many unpalatable things, but all the same there was a kind of satisfaction in being obliged to tell this disagreeable old woman what was thought of her. Disagreeable and ungrateful, too! Had she forgotten all that had happened on the night of the picnic that she could greet her deliverer without one word of thanks?
A wave of emotion passed over Lady Sarah’s face as she heard that decisive answer. Her throat worked, her face was full of wistful appeal, as she looked at the unrelenting, girlish figure, but Mildred’s eyes were cast down, and she saw nothing.
“In what way were you afraid I should spoil your pleasure?”
“Oh—in every way! You would have made us stay beside you all the time and forbidden us to run about; or—or sit on the outside of the coach, or—or speak to anyone—or do anything we liked. You said that we ought to come home by an early train. You wanted us to wear cloaks when we were boiling with heat. You would have corrected us before the others, as if we were little children. Oh!” cried Mildred impulsively, as all the fears of two days earlier came suddenly to remembrance, “it would have been miserable!”
Silence. Mildred shuffled uneasily from one foot to another, rolled her handkerchief into a ball, and felt supremely uncomfortable. She had been irritated into speaking with unbecoming warmth, but the words had no sooner passed her lips than conscience began to prick. She longed for Lady Sarah to say something sharper, more unreasonable than ever, so that she might feel that she was the injured person, and get rid of this horrible feeling of guilt. But Lady Sarah did not speak. Was she too angry to find words? Was she gathering her energies for an outburst of indignation? The silence grew oppressive. Mildred longed to be allowed to rejoin her companions, and raised her eyes with impatient defiance.
Mercy! What was this that she saw? This pitiful, huddled-up figure, these trembling hands and quivering features down which the salt, difficult tears of age were trickling? They could never, never belong to the self-possessed and fashionable lady of a moment before!
Mildred gave one gasp of horror, and threw herself on her knees beside the chair.
“Oh! what have I said? what have I said? Oh, the wicked, wicked, detestable creature that I am! Lady Sarah, Lady Sarah, don’t cry! Oh, please don’t cry, please don’t cry! You will break my heart if you go on like this!”
Her voice trembled, she clasped her arms round the old lady’s waist, and swayed with her from side to side, echoing sob for sob, while ever and anon broken utterances fell painfully on her ear.
”—Cumberer of the ground! Cumberer of the ground! Alone in the world.—No one to care! Oh, dear Lord, let me be done with it—let me die!”