She stood outside the drawing-room
door on the landing, looking at each piece, trunk, leather cases,
portmanteaus, being carried past her, her brows knitted and her aspect so
sombre and absorbed that it took some little time for the butler to
muster courage enough to speak to her. But he reflected that he was a
free-born Briton and had his rights. He spoke straight to the point but
in the usual respectful manner.
"Beg you pardon, ma'am--but are you going away for good?"
He was startled by her tone. Its unexpected, unlady-like harshness fell
on his trained ear with the disagreeable effect of a false note. "Yes. I
am going away. And the best thing for all of you is to go away too, as
soon as you like. You can go now, to-day, this moment. You had your
wages paid you only last week. The longer you stay the greater your
loss. But I have nothing to do with it now. You are the servants of Mr.
de Barral--you know."
The butler was astounded by the manner of this advice, and as his eyes
wandered to the drawing-room door the governess extended her arm as if to
bar the way.
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