“Left you--altogether?” exclaimed Disney, with the tone of a man who could scarcely believe in his own sense of hearing, so astounding was the statement that met his ears. “Tabitha, my mother’s faithful old servant, who was like my own flesh and blood! What in God’s name made her leave you? Did you quarrel with her?” He asked the question almost sternly. For the first time in his life he was angry with this dear fragile creature, the idol of his heart. He had loved Tabitha as servants are not often loved. He had left his young wife in her charge, desiring no better custodian, full of faith in Tabitha’s ability both to protect and counsel her girlish mistress. “No, no; we did not quarrel. I liked Tabitha very much. I was almost as fond of her as you yourself could be.” “And yet you dismissed her!” Disney retorted bitterly. “She was not smart enough for you, perhaps. Those Crowther people may have put it into your head that she was old-fashioned--that you could never have a modish household with such a humdrum old person at the head of it. Was that your motive?” “Oh, Martin, how can you think me so frivolous? I hate smartness and pretension as much as you do. No, I should never have dismissed Tabitha. She left me of her own accord.” “Why?” “She wanted rest. She was too old for service, she told me. I tried to keep her. I humiliated myself so far as to beg her to stay with me”--the tears came into her eyes at the mere memory of that humiliation--“but she had made up her mind. She would not give way.” “Where did she go?” “To Falmouth--to live with her sister, a shoemaker’s widow. They let lodgings, I believe.” “She must have gone mad! A lodging-house must be harder work than anything she had to do here.” “Yes, I think it must.” “When did she go?” “At the beginning of the year--in January.” “She left you six months ago, and in all that time you never told me she was gone.” “I did not want you to know, for fear you should be worried or vexed.” “I should have been both; but you ought to have told me. I had a right to know. I left you in her charge, Isola. You are much too young and too pretty to be living alone without some kind of dragon--and I knew Tabitha would be a very gentle dragon--a good motherly soul, able to wait upon you and look after your health, and yet grim enough to keep marauders off the premises. Indeed, my pet, you should have let me know of her departure without an hour’s delay. She was very wrong to go. It was a breach of faith I could never have expected.” “Pray don’t be angry with her, Martin.” “But I am angry. I have a right to be angry. I’ll go to Falmouth to-morrow, and have it out with her.” “No, no, pray don’t! We parted good friends. She can say nothing to you more than she said to me. Pray don’t let there be any bad blood between you. What could be gained by your going? To-morrow, too--our first day together!”