I am a lonely woman thrown helpless on my
own resources, without rank or place in the world. I may or may not keep
you as my friend. As mistress and maid the connection between us must
come to an end."
"Oh, ma'am, don't, don't say that!" pleaded Louisa, faintly.
Magdalen sorrowfully and steadily went on.
"When you first came to me," she resumed, "I thought I should not like
you. I have learned to like you--I have learned to be grateful to you.
From first to last you have been faithful and good to me. The least I
can do in return is not to stand in the way of your future prospects."
"Don't send me away, ma'am!" said Louisa, imploringly. "If you can only
help me with a little money now and then, I'll wait for my wages--I
will, indeed."
Magdalen took her hand and went on, as sorrowfully and as steadily as
before.
"My future life is all darkness, all uncertainty," she said. "The next
step I may take may lead me to my prosperity or may lead me to my ruin.
Can I ask you to share such a prospect as this? If your future was as
uncertain as mine is--if you, too, were a friendless woman thrown on
the world--my conscience might be easy in letting you cast your lot
with mine.
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