'Please forgive me; I won't shew it any more; and I will do anything you tell me.'
'First, and above all, you must earnestly do what you can to assist me to make it appear that I am feeling neither sorrow nor anger to-day, Becky.'
'I will,' she replied, simply and honestly.
'And next, I want you to contrive to carry that small portmanteau into the wood for me at dusk this evening, when some one will meet you, and bring it to me. You must contrive it so that no one will know that you have helped me. The best time for you to take it will be whilst the ladies are at tea. If you take in tea at the usual time, precisely at seven, you would have a spare half hour, which would be time enough. Slip out the back way, and carry it anyway. I cannot take it myself, as there must be no good-bye.'
'Very well, Miss. This one?'
'Yes. It is not too heavy for you, I hope?'
'O no, Miss; it is not that;' lugubriously.
'Now, Becky, please do not forget. That is not looking cheerful, you know.'
'No, Miss Haddon, dear; I won't forget, when I'm down-stairs.'
Fortunately, she helped me to get up a smile, to begin with, at the breakfast-table. How shall I describe the expression of Becky's face when she came in with the coffee, &c. Her mouth was distended with a grin, which was in strange contrast with the sadness in her eyes, and her whole face reminding one, as Lilian said, of an india-rubber one pulled out of shape!