Once I very
nearly did so; but at the last moment something held me back.
Whether it was compassion for my mistress, who had grown more and
more dependent on me, or unwillingness to try a new place, or some
other feeling that I couldn't put a name to, I lingered on as if
spell-bound, though every night was dreadful to me, and the days but
little better.
For one thing, I didn't like Mrs. Brympton's looks. She had never
been the same since that night, no more than I had. I thought she
would brighten up after Mr. Brympton left, but though she seemed
easier in her mind, her spirits didn't revive, nor her strength
either. She had grown attached to me, and seemed to like to have me
about; and Agnes told me one day that, since Emma Saxon's death, I
was the only maid her mistress had taken to. This gave me a warm
feeling for the poor lady, though after all there was little I could
do to help her.
After Mr. Brympton's departure, Mr. Ranford took to coming again,
though less often than formerly. I met him once or twice in the
grounds, or in the village, and I couldn't but think there was a
change in him too; but I set it down to my disordered fancy.
The weeks passed, and Mr. Brympton had now been a month absent. We
heard he was cruising with a friend in the West Indies, and Mr. Wace
said that was a long way off, but though you had the wings of a dove
and went to the uttermost parts of the earth, you couldn't get away
from the Almighty. Agnes said that as long as he stayed away from
Brympton, the Almighty might have him and welcome; and this raised a
laugh, though Mrs.
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