Part 28 (2/2)
She whispered the word beneath her breath. ”Yes, Miss. Cut in the arm.
He would have it that way. And he wouldn't let me in. I waited for hours. And this morning I went into his room myself. He was in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves. I pretended I wanted the linen for the wash. I was looking for blood, Miss. Not a drop did I find. Not a pin p.r.i.c.k stain.
But I seen him bandaging his arm; right in front of me he did it. And then I seen him rip the bandage off.”
”Nannie--”
”It's his reason I fear for, Miss. He turns to me and asks me if I can see the cut.”
”Yes? Yes, Nannie?”
”He shows me his arm. And, Miss--”
The woman stopped abruptly.
”Nannie--what? What?”
Genevieve Evans' hands had gone up to her throat.
”There wasn't a scratch;--not--a--scratch!”
”Oh--” She breathed.
”And that's why I came here, Miss. To ask if he'd said anything of it to you. Or if--if you'd noticed anything, Miss.”
Genevieve Evans waited a full second before she answered:
”No, Nannie. He wouldn't have told me. I didn't notice anything. I wasn't there very long. You see I only went to ask him to let me get away. Out in the country--by myself. I wanted the money to go. He and--and Mr. Evans never give me money, Nannie. Just things--all the things, I want. Only I'm tired of things. I don't quite know what to do. When--I think about it I get very angry. I was very angry. Last night I was very angry! I've such funny ideas when I'm angry, Nannie. I mustn't get angry again. But I've got--to--get--away.”
”I don't blame you, Miss Genevieve, for being angry. You've been an angel all your life; all your life pent up like--like a saint--with--with--devils.”
”You--don't--blame--me--Nannie?”
”No, Lamb. Not your Nannie. Your Nannie knows what it's been like for you. I know him, Miss Genevieve. I know he didn't give you the money.”
”No, Nannie. He laughed at me. Laughed--”
”He's a beast! That's what he is, Miss. He should have give it to you.
And him going away himself. He was telling me only to-day. Into the country.”
”What?”
”Oh, Miss. I hate to say such things to you. He's going with that black-haired woman;--the latest one, she is. He thinks she works too hard. He's taking her off for a rest. Is anything the matter? Aren't you well, darling?”
Genevieve Evans swayed dizzily for a second her one hand reaching out blindly before her.
The woman came quickly and took the hand between both of her hands and stroked it.
”Nannie, I'm sick--sick!”
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