When I encountered Miss Darrell on my way to the garden I always accosted
her with marked civility; her manner would be a little repelling in
return, and she would answer me very coldly. In spite of her outward
politeness, I think she was a little afraid of me at that time. I always
felt that a concealed sneer lay under her words. She made it clearly
understood that she considered that I had forced myself into the house
for my own purposes. Under these conditions I thought it better to avoid
these encounters as much as possible.
I saw Uncle Max two or three times. He had timed his visits purposely
that he might join me in my stroll in the garden. We had made the
arrangement to meet in this way daily. Max's society and sympathy would
have been a refreshment to me, but we were obliged to discontinue the
practice. Max never appeared without Miss Darrell following a few minutes
afterwards. She would come out of the house, brisk and smiling, in
_grande toilette_,--to take a turn in the shrubberies, as she said.
Max would look at me and very soon take his leave. At last he told
me dejectedly that we might as well give it up, as Miss Darrell was
determined that he should not speak to me alone: so after that I
contrived to send him daily notes by Chatty, who was always delighted
to do an errand in the village.
'I can't think what makes Miss Darrell so curious, ma'am,' the girl once
said to me. 'She asks me every day if I have been down to the vicarage.
She did it while master was by the other afternoon, and he told her quite
sharply that it was no affair of hers.'
'Never mind that, Chatty.'
'Oh, but I am afraid she means mischief, ma'am,' persisted Chatty, who
had a great dislike to Miss Darrell, which she showed by being somewhat
pert to her, 'for she said in such a queer tone to master, "There, I told
you so: now you will believe me," and master looked as though he were not
pleased.'
As I strolled round the garden in Nap's company I often saw Leah
sitting sewing at her mistress's window: she would put down her work and
watch me until I was out of sight. I felt the woman hated me, and this
surveillance was very unpleasant to me. I never felt quite free until
I reached the kitchen-garden.
Mr. Hamilton visited his sister's room regularly three times a day. He
never stayed long: he would satisfy himself about her condition, say a
few cheerful words to her, and that was all.
His manner to me was grave and professional. Now and then, when he had
given his directions, he would ask me if there were anything he could do
for me, and if I were comfortable: and yet, in spite of his reserve and
guarded looks and words, I felt an atmosphere of protection and comfort
surrounding me that I had not known since Charlie's death.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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