"Why, Willett, I really cannot account for your strange habit of lately
hinting, and insinuating, and always speaking riddles, and refusing to
explain your meaning. What do you mean? Speak plainly. If there are any
dishonest practices going on, it is your duty to say so distinctly."

"Oh! Ma'am, it is just a wish I have. I wish--; but it's no matter. If I
could once see the house clear of that Frenchwoman--"

"If you mean Mademoiselle de Barras, she is a lady," interrupted
Mrs. Marston.

"Well, ma'am, I beg pardon," continued the woman; "lady or no lady, it is
all one to me; for I am very sure, ma'am, she'll never leave the house
till there is something bad comes about; and--and--. I can't bring myself
to talk to you about her, ma'am. I can't say what I want to tell you:
but--but--. Oh, ma'am, for God's sake, try and get her out, any way, no
matter how; try and get rid of her."

As she said this, the poor girl burst into a passionate agony of tears,
and Mrs. Marston and Rhoda looked on in silent amazement, while she for
some minutes continued to sob and weep.

The party were suddenly recalled from their various reveries by a knock
at the chamber-door. It opened, and the subject of the girl's deprecatory
entreaty entered. There was something unusually excited and assured in
Mademoiselle de Barras's air and countenance; perhaps she had a suspicion
that she had been the topic of their conversation. At all events, she
looked round upon them with a smile, in which there was something
supercilious, and even defiant; and, without waiting to be invited, sate