“Worse than tired—driven away by the smell! Dear old Teresa, why did you speak so roughly to Miss Minerva and Maria?”
“Because I hate them! because I hate the family! Was your poor father demented in his last moments, when he trusted you among these detestable people?”
Carmina listened in astonishment. “You said just the contrary of the family,” she exclaimed, “only yesterday!”
Teresa hung her head in confusion. Her well-meant attempt to reconcile Carmina to the new life on which she had entered was now revealed as a sham, thanks to her own outbreak of temper. The one honest alternative left was to own the truth, and put Carmina on her guard without alarming her, if possible.
“I’ll never tell a lie again, as long as I live,” Teresa declared. “You see I didn’t like to discourage you. After all, I dare say I’m more wrong than right in my opinion. But it is my opinion, for all that. I hate those women, mistress and governess, both alike. There! now it’s out. Are you angry with me?”
“I am never angry with you, my old friend; I am only a little vexed. Don’t say you hate people, after only knowing them for a day or two! I am sure Miss Minerva has been very kind—to me, as well as to you. I feel ashamed of myself already for having begun by disliking her.”
Teresa took her young mistress’s hand, and patted it compassionately. “Poor innocent, if you only had my experience to help you! There are good ones and bad ones among all creatures. I say to you the Gallilees are bad ones! Even their music-master (I saw him this morning) looks like a rogue. You will tell me the poor old gentleman is harmless, surely. I shall not contradict that—I shall only ask, what is the use of a man who is as weak as water? Oh, I like him, but I distinguish! I also like Zo. But what is a child—especially when that beastly governess has muddled her unfortunate little head with learning? No, my angel, there’s but one person among these people who comforts me, when I think of the day that will part us. Ha! do I see a little colour coming into your cheeks? You sly girl! you know who it is. There is what I call a Man! If I was as young as you are, and as pretty as you are—”
A warning gesture from Carmina closed Teresa’s lips. Ovid was rapidly approaching them.
He looked a little annoyed, and he made his apologies without mentioning the doctor’s name. His cousin was interested enough in him already to ask herself what this meant. Did he really dislike Benjulia, and had there been some disagreement between them?
“Was the tall doctor so very interesting?” she ventured to inquire.