This was a fine recommendation to Titine, and I felt the blood mount to my face, as I turned toward the carriage at the gate. But I glanced back and saw the girl following me with her eyes; and I wondered, selfishly enough, why she had not insisted upon helping me, though I needed no assistance, for I was strong enough at that moment to seize all the bags at once and hurl them over the house.
I saw but little of Titine that afternoon (or evening as we termed it), for the child was fretful and put a claim upon nearly all her time, but I heard her singing in a room down the hall from our "office," and I stepped about, keeping quick time with the tingling leap of my blood. At the supper hour she came down to stand behind Miss May, and I marched boldly into the dining-room, delighted now to resume a menial service. I stood beside her, but alas! with what scorn did she look at me. The child began to cry and she was sent above, and it was then that I began to hear something of her history. She had belonged to Marston's maiden sister, a peculiar creature who had cared for nothing but Titine and a white woolly dog. The dog died and the mistress, doubling her affection for the girl, sent her to a convent to be educated, greatly to the scandal of her associates. At the old woman's death, of recent date, the girl had fallen to Marston. She complained at this transfer, declaring that her mistress had drawn up a paper to set her free, but the paper could not be found, so she was compelled to submit, stubbornly at first, but after a while becoming so much attached to Miss May that she rejoiced in her good fortune.
"She knows as much and is a far better talker than I am," said Miss May.
"Daughter, you must not say that," Old Miss objected. "It cannot be true and it surely is not right."
"Very well, mother, I won't say it again, but you will soon find out for yourself."
Then they all fell into a family talk, the sudden death of Marston and the entanglement in which his affairs were likely to be found. He was not a good manager, never knew what his income was, and was always in debt. But he was so kind-hearted—and here Miss May wept and the subject was changed.
Immediately after supper young master dressed himself to call on Miss Potter, and when he was gone I threw aside my senseless book and went down into the yard, to dodge behind the trees at the corner of the house, hoping to catch sight of Titine on the veranda. At last she came out, with a red cap on her head, and stood with her hands resting on the balustrade, looking far away at the dying pink in the sky. I stepped out boldly and touched my hat. She glanced down at me and tossed her head. But I knew that she was not displeased.
"Beautiful evening," I said.
"Indeed!"