Page 2 of 4
More Books
More by this Author
|
"You must have thought I cared little for the anxiety you would be
sure to feel," said that fair young mistress, gazing with earnestness
into the glad but tearful eyes of the housekeeper. "But indeed, I
have been in no position to communicate with you, nor could I do so
without risking that to protect which I so outraged my feelings as to
leave the house at all. I mean the life and welfare of its master,
Mrs. Daniels."
"Ha, what is that?" quoth Mr. Blake. "It was to save me, you consented
to follow them?"
"Yes; what else would have led me to such an action? They might have
killed me, I would not have cared, but when they began to utter
threats against you--"
"Mrs. Blake," exclaimed Mrs. Daniels, catching hold of her mistress's
uplifted hand, and pointing to a scar that slightly disfigured her
white arm a little above the wrist, "Mrs. Blake, what's that?"
A pink flush, the first I had seen on her usually pale countenance,
rose for an instant to her cheeks, and she seemed to hesitate.
"It was not there when I last saw you, Mrs. Blake."
"No," was the slow reply, "I found myself forced that night to inflict
upon myself a little wound. It is nothing, let it go."
"No, Luttra I cannot let it go," said her husband, advancing towards
her with something like gentle command. "I must hear not only about
this but all the other occurrences of that night. How came they to
find you in the refuge you had attained?"
|