“Quite true.”
“For how long is she my guardian?”
“Until you are twenty-one years old.”
The faint colour faded from Carmina’s face. “More than three years perhaps to suffer!” she said sadly.
“To suffer? What do you mean, my dear?”
She turned paler still, and made no reply. “I want to ask one thing more?” she resumed, in sinking tones. “Would my aunt still be my guardian—supposing I was married?”
Mr. Mool answered this, with his eyes fixed on her in grave scrutiny.
“In that case, your husband is the only person who has any authority over you. These are rather strange questions, Carmina. Won’t you take me into your confidence?”
In sudden agitation she seized his hand and kissed it. “I must go!” she said. “I have kept the carriage waiting too long already.”
She ran out, without once looking back.