Volume I Part 13 (2/2)
”Please, miss, because of the omen.”
”What do you mean?” said Georgina; ”do calm yourself, Hephzibah.”
”Oh, miss, only look,” cried the girl, as she took the scientific love-token from its hiding place; ”the quicksilver have separated, never to be re-united, and isn't that an omen, miss?” Here the maid shook the thermometer with redoubled fury.
”You stupid creature, so you believe in all that nonsense, do you?”
”I may be stupid, Miss Lucy, but I've never known a sign or omen fail.
Didn't the cook at The Warren, miss, predict, with coffee grounds, that I should be engaged to a foreign gentleman, but that some one younger and more beautiful would prove a jealous rival? Here I am engaged, miss, or as good, to Mr. Capt; and I know what this omen means. You may laugh, miss, but it's a very serious thing.”
”I shouldn't wonder at all, Hephzibah; the hotel prospectus says there are no less than fifty chambermaids here. Perhaps even fifty jealous rivals.”
”Mr. Capt don't demean himself to chambermaids, Miss Lucy,” retorted the abigail with angry scorn.
”Oh, I've no doubt Capt is ambitious; perhaps he looks higher. Perhaps I shall be your rival, Hephzibah.”
”You wouldn't have the heart to do it, miss,” said the girl in all seriousness.
Mrs. Haggard gave her cousin a reproving glance, but Lucy imperturbably continued:
”Well, Hephzibah,” she said, ”I think you may consider yourself safe from me, at least; but I'll help you if you'll let me.”
Ladies don't wink, they only imperceptibly droop their eyelids, but the glance that Lucy gave her cousin was terribly like a wink, and br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with malice.
”Yes,” she went on. ”Light that candle, you stupid creature; now hold your thermometer close to the flame; we shall soon see what the omen is worth.”
The maid did as she was bid, and carefully watched the tube.
”Well, are the separated fates getting any nearer?” inquired the young mistress with affected solicitude.
”Oh, miss, they are coming together gradually, but very slowly, miss.”
”Get the thing nearer to the candle, then.”
Poor Hephzibah obeyed; she little suspected the heartless trick played at her expense.
”Oh, miss,” she delightedly exclaimed, ”they'll join in another instant.”
Bang went the fragile bulb, as it splintered into a thousand atoms, and the mercury shot in sparkling globules over the table.
Lucy's ringing laugh resounded through the room.
But the matter was no joke to Hephzibah, her pale lips became colourless; she pressed her hand to her heart with a gesture full of anguish, recovered herself with difficulty, gave forth a few short sharp sobs, cast an almost menacing look upon her younger mistress, then turned and rushed from the room.
”How could you have the heart to tease her so?” said Georgie with honest indignation. ”I'm ashamed of you, Lucy; you've no right to trifle with her feelings.”
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