She looked at me with the softest serenity. "I keep no servants."
"Can she not wait upon herself?"
"She is not used to that."
"I see," said I, as gently as possible. "But before you go, tell me this: who is this lady?"
"I told you about her before—that day. She is the wife of my cousin, whom you saw."
"The lady who was disowned by her family in consequence of her marriage?"
"Yes; they have never seen her again. They have cast her off."
"And where is her husband?"
"He is dead."
"And where is your money?"
The poor girl flinched; there was something too consistent in my questions. "I don't know," she said wearily.
But I continued a moment. "On her husband's death this lady came over here?"
"Yes, she arrived one day."
"How long ago?"
"Two years."
"She has been here ever since?"
"Every moment."
"How does she like it?"
"Not at all."
"And how do you like it?"
Miss Spencer laid her face in her two hands an instant, as she had done ten minutes before.
