“Would you like to go home to your mother, Lottie?” said Isa.
Instead of the sparkle of delight which Isa expected to call up in the black eyes of her little maid, an anxious look of inquiry filled them.
“O Miss Isa! I know I bees awkward, I did break another saucer last night—but—but won’t you give me a little longer trial?”
Isa was amused at the confession, made with evident effort, for the blood rushed to the face of the simple girl as she spoke. “I had no thought of sending you away, Lottie,” said the young mistress, kindly; “but if you would like to pass a couple of days with your mother, Mrs. Holdich will give you a seat in her cart which is going on Saturday to Axe.”
It was pleasant to Isa to see the sudden transition to joy on the countenance of her little servant; Lottie clapped her hands like a child to whom a holiday is promised. With a heart warmed by the sight of the innocent happiness which she had given, Isa Gritton opened the door of her brother’s study, and entered the dull apartment with a light step and radiant smile, like one whose presence could make “sunshine in a shady place.” Gaspar was seated by a fireless grate; though shivering with chilliness, he would not indulge in a fire in April. He certainly looked even more sickly than usual, and Isa felt her cheerfulness damped at once as, without rising, her brother held out two cold fingers to her, with the dry observation, “So you can actually leave the delights of the Castle for an hour, to see if your brother be dead or alive!”
“Nay, dear Gaspar,” said Isa, expostulatingly, as she seated herself by his side, “if I thought that you needed my society—that I could be a real comfort to you—” she stopped short, being too candid to make empty professions, and not having made up her mind how far she could truthfully go.
“I don’t care for words, I like deeds,” observed Gaspar, coldly; “women always can talk.”
The fresh, bright colour which Isa had brought in from her walk over the common, deepened a little on her cheek, but she had resolved to be patient and cheerful, and let her visit give nothing but pleasure. Though it might be scarcely necessary to tell Gaspar that she had given a holiday to her young maid, it occurred to Isa that it might be well to show him the deference of asking his consent.
“Lottie would be very glad to see her mother,” observed Isa after a short silence; “she is a poor, shy little bird, that has never before left the nest; Mrs. Holdich has arranged to make all easy for her going on Saturday to Axe, if you’ll kindly give her leave for two days.”
“I shall do no such thing,” replied Gaspar, peevishly; “I don’t give a girl wages for going to see her mother.”