'You shouldn't have been so curious, Miss, and then you wouldn't
have needed to fret before your time. It would have come soon
enough. And now, I suppose, you'll tell master, and a pretty
household I shall have of you!' 'No, Dixon,' said Margaret, sorrowfully, 'I will not tell papa.
He could not bear it as I can.' And by way of proving how well
she bore it, she burst into tears.
'Ay! I knew how it would be. Now you'll waken your mamma, just
after she's gone to sleep so quietly. Miss Margaret my dear, I've
had to keep it down this many a week; and though I don't pretend
I can love her as you do, yet I loved her better than any other
man, woman, or child--no one but Master Frederick ever came near
her in my mind. Ever since Lady Beresford's maid first took me in
to see her dressed out in white crape, and corn-ears, and scarlet
poppies, and I ran a needle down into my finger, and broke it in,
and she tore up her worked pocket-handkerchief, after they'd cut
it out, and came in to wet the bandages again with lotion when
she returned from the ball--where she'd been the prettiest young
lady of all--I've never loved any one like her. I little thought
then that I should live to see her brought so low. I don't mean
no reproach to nobody. Many a one calls you pretty and handsome,
and what not. Even in this smoky place, enough to blind one's
eyes, the owls can see that. But you'll never be like your mother
for beauty--never; not if you live to be a hundred.' 'Mamma is very pretty still. Poor mamma!' 'Now don't ye set off again, or I shall give way at last'
(whimpering). 'You'll never stand master's coming home, and
questioning, at this rate. Go out and take a walk, and come in
something like. Many's the time I've longed to walk it off--the
thought of what was the matter with her, and how it must all
end.' 'Oh, Dixon!' said Margaret, 'how often I've been cross with you,
not knowing what a terrible secret you had to bear!' 'Bless you, child! I like to see you showing a bit of a spirit.
It's the good old Beresford blood. Why, the last Sir John but two
shot his steward down, there where he stood, for just telling him
that he'd racked the tenants, and he'd racked the tenants till he
could get no more money off them than he could get skin off a
flint.' 'Well, Dixon, I won't shoot you, and I'll try not to be cross
again.' 'You never have. If I've said it at times, it has always been to
myself, just in private, by way of making a little agreeable
conversation, for there's no one here fit to talk to. And when
you fire up, you're the very image of Master Frederick. I could
find in my heart to put you in a passion any day, just to see his
stormy look coming like a great cloud over your face. But now you
go out, Miss. I'll watch over missus; and as for master, his
books are company enough for him, if he should come in.' 'I will go,' said Margaret. She hung about Dixon for a minute or
so, as if afraid and irresolute; then suddenly kissing her, she
went quickly out of the room.