Gradually the reality of her loss had burst upon her, and now,
gasping, choking, and wringing her hands, she lay upon the pillows,
while Mrs. Jeffrey, worked up to a pitch of great nervous excitement,
fidgeted hither and thither, doing always the wrong thing, fanning the
lady when she did not wish to be fanned, and ceasing to fan her just
when she was "dying for want of air."
As yet Mrs. Jeffrey knew nothing definite, except that something
dreadful had happened to Margaret; but very candidly Mr. Carrollton
told her all, bidding her keep silent on the subject; then, turning to
Madam Conway, he repeated to her the result of his call on old Hagar.
"The wretch!" gasped Madam Conway, while Mrs. Jeffrey, running in her
fright from the window to the door, and from the door back to the
window again, exclaimed: "Margaret not a Conway, nor yet a Davenport,
after all! It is just what I expected. I always knew she came honestly
by those low-bred ways!"
"Jeffrey," and the voice of the hysterical woman on the bed was
loud and distinct, as she grasped the arm of the terrified little
governess, who chanced to be within her reach. "Jeffrey, either leave
my house at once, or speak more deferentially of Miss Miller. You
will call her by that name, too. It matters not to Mr. Carrollton and
myself whose child she has been. She is ours now, and must be treated
with respect. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am," meekly answered Jeffrey, rubbing her dumpy arm, which
bore the mark of a thumb and finger, and as her services were not just
then required she glided from the room to drown, if possible, her
grievance in the leather-bound London edition of Baxter!
Meanwhile Madam Conway was consulting with Mr.
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