My father beckoned48 me into the study one day, and said he —

 

 

 

 

“You ought not to give poor Madame so much pain. She is one of the few persons who take an interest in you; why should she have so often to complain of your ill-temper and disobedience? — why should she be compelled to ask my permission to punish you? Don’t be afraid, I won’t concede that. But in so kind a person it argues much. Affection I can’t command — respect and obedience49 I may — and I insist on your rendering50 both to Madame.”

 

“But sir,” I said, roused into courage by the gross injustice51 of the charge, “I have always done exactly as she bid me, and never said one disrespectful word to Madame.”

 

“I don’t think, child, you are the best judge of that. Go, and amend52.” And with a displeased53 look he pointed54 to the door. My heart swelled55 with the sense of wrong, and as I reached the door I turned to say another word, but I could not, and only burst into tears.

 

 

 

 

“There — don’t cry, little Maud — only let us do better for the future. There — there — there has been enough.”

 

And he kissed my forehead, and gently put me out and closed the door.

 

In the school-room I took courage, and with some warmth upbraided56 Madame.

 

“Wat wicked cheaile!” moaned Madame, demurely57. “Read aloud those three — yes, those three chapters of the Bible, my dear Maud.”

 

There was no special fitness in those particular chapters, and when they were ended she said in a sad tone —

 

“Now, dear, you must commit to memory this pretty priaire for umility of art.”

 

It was a long one, and in a state of profound irritation58 I got through the task.

 

Mrs. Rusk hated her. She said she stole wine and brandy whenever the opportunity offered — that she was always asking her for such stimulants59 and pretending pains in her stomach. Here, perhaps, there was exaggeration; but I knew it was true that I had been at different times despatched on that errand and pretext60 for brandy to Mrs. Rusk, who at last came to her bedside with pills and a mustard blister61 only, and was hated irrevocably ever after.

 

I felt all this was done to torture me. But a day is a long time to a child, and they forgive quickly. It was always with a sense of danger that I heard Madame say she must go and see Monsieur Ruthyn in the library, and I think a jealousy62 of her growing influence was an ingredient in the detestation in which honest Mrs. Rusk held her.