"It never comes to open quarrelling between us," rejoined Prance. "But she's uncommonly aggravating."
"Be quiet, Prance! I desire once for all that there may be more pleasantness between you. It is a scandal that the two upper maids of the Hall should be ever at variance, and it's a thoroughly bad example for the children; and it's--you know it's not well for your mistress. Mrs. St. John requires peace, not----"
Prance uttered an exclamation: it caused Mrs. Darling, who was looking into a bandbox at the time, to turn sharply. Mrs. St. John was standing there, behind the bed-curtains--to the startled lady's intense dismay. How much had she heard?
"Charlotte, my dear, I did not know you were there. I was just giving Prance a lecture upon this ill-feeling that seems always to be going on between her and Honour. Have you come to stay with me, child, whilst I unpack?" added Mrs. Darling, seeing that her daughter was seating herself comfortably in an easy-chair. "Then, Prance, I think you may go now."
But while she so spoke, Mrs. Darling was tormenting herself, as much as one of her easy disposition can do so, as to whether she had caught a word of her conversation with Prance--that part of it relating to money. There had been some noise in the room from the opening of drawers and moving of boxes, which must have prevented their hearing her come in. "I'll speak of it," thought Mrs. Darling. "It's better to take the bull by the horns and make the best of it, when one does get into these dilemmas."
She stole a glance at her daughter, while busily intent to all appearance in straightening the trimmings of a bonnet she had just taken out of a bandbox. Mrs. St. John looked cold and stern. Had she heard anything?
"Charlotte, my dear, I am so very anxious about you: as to how things are left, and all that. I dropped a remark to poor Prance, but she seems to think it is all right; that you are left well-off and remain here. These simple servants can't know much, of course. I am glad your husband made a just and proper will."
"He made an infamous will," cried the young widow, her cheeks flaming.
The words completely took Mrs. Darling aback, and she forgot to enlarge on the opinion she had just expressed of poor, simple Prance's imperfect knowledge. "An infamous will, Charlotte!" she exclaimed, "when you have the Hall and four thousand a-year."
"It is infamous. I am left dependent upon the heir."