I wanted to know the cause of it, but she seemed reluctant to tell. Was she unwell? No. Had she heard bad news from her friends? No. Had any of the servants vexed her?
"Oh, no Ma'am!" she answered—"It's not for myself."
"What then, Rachel? Have you been reading novels?"
"Bless you, no!" said she with a sorrowful shake of the head; and then she sighed and continued, "But to tell you the truth, Ma'am, I don't like master's ways of going on."
"What do you mean Rachel?—He's going on very properly—at present."
"Well ma'am, if you think so, it's right."
And she went on dressing my hair, in a hurried way, quite unlike her usual calm, collected manner,—murmuring, half to herself, she was sure it was beautiful hair, she "could like to see 'em match it." When it was done, she fondly stroked it and gently patted my head.
"Is that affectionate ebulition intended for
