XLIII. Fanny's Revenge

           "Doyouwantmeanylongerma’am?"inquiredLiddy,atalaterhourthesameevening,standingbythedoorwithachambercandlestickinherhandandaddressingBathsheba,whosatcheerlessandaloneinthelargeparlourbesidethefirstfireoftheseason.

           "Nomoreto-night,Liddy."

           "I’llsitupformasterifyoulike,ma’am.IamnotatallafraidofFanny,ifImaysitinmyownroomandhaveacandle.Shewassuchachildlike,neshyoungthingthatherspiritcouldn’tappeartoanybodyifittried,I’mquitesure."

           "Ohno,no!Yougotobed.I’llsitupforhimmyselftilltwelveo’clock,andifhehasnotarrivedbythattime,Ishallgivehimupandgotobedtoo."

           "Itishalf-pasttennow."

           "Oh!isit?"

           "Whydon’tyousitupstairs,ma’am?"

           "Whydon’tI?"saidBathsheba,desultorily."Itisn’tworthwhile—there’safirehere,Liddy."Shesuddenlyexclaimedinanimpulsiveandexcitedwhisper,"HaveyouheardanythingstrangesaidofFanny?"Thewordshadnosoonerescapedherthananexpressionofunutterableregretcrossedherface,andsheburstintotears.

           "No—notaword!"saidLiddy,lookingattheweepingwomanwithastonishment."Whatisitmakesyoucryso,ma’am;hasanythinghurtyou?"ShecametoBathsheba’ssidewithafacefullofsympathy.

           "No,Liddy—Idon’twantyouanymore.IcanhardlysaywhyIhavetakentocryinglately:Ineverusedtocry.Good-night."

           Liddythenlefttheparlourandclosedthedoor.