The old French hypocrite!'
Mary Quince threw in an observation, and I believe Mrs. Rusk rejoined, but
I heard neither. For whether the housekeeper spoke with reflection or not,
what she said affected me strangely. Through the smallest aperture, for
a moment, I had had a peep into Pandemonium. Were not peculiarities of
Madame's demeanour and advice during the adventure partly accounted for by
the suggestion? Could the proposed excursion to Church Scarsdale have had
any purpose of the same sort? What was proposed? How was Madame interested
in it? Were such immeasurable treason and hypocrisy possible? I could not
explain nor quite believe in the shapeless suspicion that with these light
and bitter words of the old housekeeper had stolen so horribly into my
mind.
After Mrs. Rusk was gone I awoke from my dismal abstraction with something
like a moan and a shudder, with a dreadful sense of danger.
'Oh! Mary Quince,' I cried, 'do you think she really knew?'
'_Who_, Miss Maud?'
'Do you think Madame knew of those dreadful people? Oh, no--say you
don't--you don't believe it--tell me she did not.
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