CHAPTER XXXIX.
Mrs. Gallilee’s maid looked at her watch, when the carriage left Mr. Mool’s house. “We shall be nearly an hour late, before we get home,” she said.
“It’s my fault, Marceline. Tell your mistress the truth, if she questions you. I shall not think the worse of you for obeying your orders.”
“I’d rather lose my place, Miss, than get you into trouble.”
The woman spoke truly, Carmina’s sweet temper had made her position not only endurable, but delightful: she had been treated like a companion and a friend. But for that circumstance—so keenly had Marceline felt the degradation of being employed as a spy—she would undoubtedly have quitted Mrs. Gallilee’s service.
On the way home, instead of talking pleasantly as usual, Carmina was silent and sad. Had this change in her spirits been caused by the visit to Mr. Mool? It was even so. The lawyer had innocently decided her on taking the desperate course which Miss Minerva had proposed.
If Mrs. Gallilee’s assertion of her absolute right of authority, as guardian, had been declared by Mr. Mool to be incorrect, Carmina (hopefully forgetful of her aunt’s temper) had thought of a compromise.
She would have consented to remain at Mrs. Gallilee’s disposal until Ovid returned, on condition of being allowed, when Teresa arrived in London, to live in retirement with her old nurse. This change of abode would prevent any collision between Mrs. Gallilee and Teresa, and would make Carmina’s life as peaceful, and even as happy, as she could wish.
But now that the lawyer had confirmed her aunt’s statement of the position in which they stood towards one another, instant flight to Ovid’s love and protection seemed to be the one choice left—unless Carmina could resign herself to a life of merciless persecution and perpetual suspense.