Oh, Mollie Dane, you miserable little wretch! I wish you had
never been born!"
Another dreary interval, and then for the third time came Sarah bearing
a tray.
"Your supper, miss." said Sarah, going through the formula. "I hope you
liked your dinner."
"Oh, take it away!" cried Millie, twisting her fingers. "I don't want
any supper--I'm going crazy, I think! Oh, what a hard, flinty, unfeeling
heart you must have, you wicked young woman!"
Sarah looked at her compassionately.
"It is hard, I know. But why didn't you do as master wished you, and get
away?"
"Marry him! How dare you? I wish I could poison him! I'd do that with
the greatest pleasure."
"Then you must stay here, miss, for weeks and weeks, months and months,
and every day be like this. Your friends will never find you--never!"
"Sarah, look here! I shall be dead in a week, and I'll haunt you--I vow
I will! I'll haunt you until I make your life a misery to you!"
Sarah smiled quietly.
"I am not afraid, miss. You're a great deal too young and too healthy to
die; and you won't kill yourself, for life is too sweet, even in prison.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111