Grace would rather she should go anywhere else, but she did not
say so to Arthur. She merely replied that Edith was conceited
enough to think Mr. Harrington pleased with her just because he
had sometimes talked to her when she carried him flowers.
"But of course he don't care for her," she said. "What could a
blind man do with a child like her? Besides, after what has
occurred, I could not conscientiously give her a good name."
Arthur involuntarily gave an incredulous whistle, which spoke
volumes of comfort to the little girl weeping so passionately by
the window, and watching with longing eyes the Collingwood
carriage now passing from her view.
"We must go or be left," said Arthur, approaching her gently, and
whispering to her not to cry.
"Good bye, Edith," said Mrs. Atherton, putting out her jewelled
band; but Edith would not touch it, and in a tone of voice which
sank deep into the proud woman's heart, she answered:
"You'll be sorry for this some time."
Old Rachel was in great distress, for Edith was her pet; and
winding her black arms about her neck, she wept over her a simple,
heartfelt blessing, and then, as the carriage drove from the gate,
ran back to her neglected churning, venting her feelings upon the
dasher, which she set down so vigorously that the rich cream flew
in every direction, bespattering the wall, the window, the floor,
the stove, and settling in large white flakes upon her tawny skin
and tall blue turban.
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