Mrs. Rusk was fond of assuring me that Madame 'did not like
a bone in my skin.' Instinctively I knew that she bore me no
good-will, although I really believe it was her wish to make me
think quite the reverse. At all events I had no desire to see
Madame again before her departure, especially as she had thrown
upon me one momentary glance in the study, which seemed to
me charged with very peculiar feelings.
You may be very sure, therefore, that I had no desire for a
formal leave-taking at her departure. I took my hat and cloak, therefore, and stole out quietly.
My ramble was a sequestered one, and well screened, even at
this late season, with foliage; the pathway devious among the
stems of old trees, and its flooring interlaced and groined with
their knotted roots. Though near the house, it was a sylvan
solitude; a little brook ran darkling and glimmering through it, wild strawberries and other woodland plants strewed the ground, and the sweet notes and flutter of small birds made the shadow of the boughs cheery.
I had been fully an hour in this picturesque solitude when I
heard in the distance the ring of carriage-wheels, announcing
to me that Madame de la Rougierre had fairly set out upon her
travels. I thanked heaven; I could have danced and sung with
delight; I heaved a great sigh and looked up through the
branches to the clear blue sky.
But things are oddly timed. Just at this moment I heard
Madame's voice close at my ear, and her large bony hand was
laid on my shoulder. We were instantly face to face—I recoiling, and for a moment speechless with fright.
In very early youth we do not appreciate the restraints which
act upon malignity, or know how effectually fear protects us
where conscience is wanting. Quite alone, in this solitary spot, detected and overtaken with an awful instinct by my enemy, what might not be about to happen to me at that moment?
'Frightened as usual, Maud,' she said quietly, and eyeing me
with a sinister smile, 'and with cause you think, no doubt. Wat
'av you done to injure poor Madame? Well, I think I know, little girl, and have quite discover the cleverness of my sweet little Maud. Eh—is not so? Petite carogne—ah, ha, ha!'
I was too much confounded to answer.
'You see, my dear cheaile,' she said, shaking her uplifted
finger with a hideous archness at me, 'you could not hide what
you 'av done from poor Madame. You cannot look so innocent
but I can see your pretty little villany quite plain—you dear little
diablesse.
'Wat I 'av done I 'av no reproach of myself for it. If I could
explain, your papa would say I 'av done right, and you should
thank me on your knees; but I cannot explain yet.'
She was speaking, as it were, in little paragraphs, with a momentary
pause between each, to allow its meaning to impress
itself.
'If I were to choose to explain, your papa he would implore
me to remain. But no—I would not—notwithstanding your so
cheerful house, your charming servants, your papa's amusing
society, and your affectionate and sincere heart, my sweet little
maraude.
'I am to go to London first, where I 'av, oh, so good friends! next I will go abroad for some time; but be sure, my sweetest Maud, wherever I may 'appen to be, I will remember you—ah, ha! Yes; most certainly, I will remember you.
'And although I shall not be always near, yet I shall know
everything about my charming little Maud; you will not know
how, but I shall indeed, everything. And be sure, my dearest
cheaile, I will some time be able to give you the sensible proofs
of my gratitude and affection—you understand.
'The carriage is waiting at the yew-tree stile, and I must
go on. You did not expect to see me—here; I will appear, perhaps, as suddenly another time. It is great pleasure to us both—this opportunity to make our adieux. Farewell! my dearest little Maud. I will never cease to think of you, and of some way to recompense the kindness you 'av shown for poor Madame.'