'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. I'm distracted, Mary
Quince, I'm frightened out of my life.'

'There now, Miss Maud, dear--there now, don't take on so--why should
she?--no sich a thing. Mrs. Rusk, law bless you, she's no more meaning in
what she says than the child unborn.'

But I was really frightened. I was in a horrible state of uncertainty as to
Madame de la Rougierre's complicity with the party who had beset us at the
warren, and afterwards so murderously beat our poor gamekeeper. How was
I ever to get rid of that horrible woman? How long was she to enjoy her
continual opportunities of affrighting and injuring me?

'She hates me--she hates me, Mary Quince; and she will never stop until she
has done me some dreadful injury. Oh! will no one relieve me--will no one
take her away? Oh, papa, papa, papa! you will be sorry when it is too
late.'

I was crying and wringing my hands, and turning from side to side, at my
wits' ends, and honest Mary Quince in vain endevoured to quiet and comfort
me.