She turned a bitter glance toward Church Scarsdale, and bit her lip. She
saw that she must give it up. A shadow hung upon her drab features. A
little scowl--a little sneer--wide lips compressed with a false smile, and
a leaden shadow mottling all. Such was the countenance of the lady who only
a minute or two before had been smiling and murmuring over the stile so
amiably with her idiomatic 'blarney,' as the Irish call that kind of
blandishment.

There was no mistaking the malignant disappointment that hooked and warped
her features--my heart sank--a tremendous fear overpowered me. Had she
intended poisoning me? What was in that basket? I looked in her dreadful
face. I felt for a minute quite frantic. A feeling of rage with my father,
with my Cousin Monica, for abandoning me to this dreadful rogue, took
possession of me, and I cried, helplessly wringing my hands--

'Oh! it is a shame--it is a shame--it is a shame!'

The countenance of the gouvernante relaxed. I think she in turn was
frightened at my extreme agitation. It might have worked unfavourably with
my father.

'Come, Maud, it is time you should try to control your temper. You shall
not walk to Church Scarsdale if you do not like--I only invite. _There_!
It is quite as you please, where we shall walk then? Here to the
peegeon-house? I think you say. Tout bien! Remember I concede you
everything. Let us go.'

We went, therefore, towards the pigeon-house, through the forest trees; I
not speaking as the children in the wood did with their sinister conductor,
but utterly silent and scared; she silent also, meditating, and sometimes