Rachel was very tired when she opened the door of her room and found
her maid still engaged in folding up and rearranging her clothes.
Bantry, a tall, gaunt, Scotchwoman, was an old servant; she had been in
the Leven family before the two girls were born and naturally claimed
the privileges of long and faithful service. A glance at her face told
Rachel that the end was not yet.
"What is it?" she asked involuntarily.
Bantry closed the door and locked it, her homely face magenta color.
"Miss Rachel, that French girl of Miss Eva's ought to be dismissed. I
beg your pardon for bringing it to you, but I must,--" the big woman's
eyes filled with tears,--"I'm thinking of you, my lamb."
Rachel sank down into the big, winged chair that had received Eva the
night before. "I hate servants' gossip, Bantry; is it really necessary
to mention it to me?"
"It is so, Miss Rachel, or I wouldn't; she says things that she
shouldn't, and I can't stop her!"
Rachel still leaned back in her chair, looking out of the window. This
nightmare grew worse every moment; it was like a labyrinth to which she
had lost the guiding thread. She could not question a servant, but she
knew, intuitively, that Zélie had gossiped of her engagement. It was
not hard to divine the curiosity it must have excited, for Belhaven had
been a devoted admirer of Eva Astry's and had never before bestowed a
glance on her sister. Rachel's cheek reddened at the thought.
"I think we won't discuss it further, Bantry," she said at last.