There I paused, for, the panting creature I had by the arm turning upon me, I saw myself confronted by a stranger.
“You have made a mistake,” she cried. “I am Eleanore Leavenworth, and I have come for my girl Hannah. Is she here?”
I could only raise my hand in apprehension, and point to the girl sitting in the corner of the room before her. Miss Leavenworth immediately turned back.
“Hannah, I want you,” said she, and would have left the house without another word, but I caught her by the arm.
“Oh, miss—” I began, but she gave me such a look, I dropped her arm.
“I have nothing to say to you!” she cried in a low, thrilling voice. “Do not detain me.” And, with a glance to see if Hannah were following her, she went out.
For an hour I sat crouched on the stair just where she had left me. Then I went to bed, but I did not sleep a wink that night. You can imagine, then, my wonder when, with the first glow of the early morning light, Mary, looking more beautiful than ever, came running up the steps and into the room where I was, with the letter for Mr. Clavering trembling in her hand.
“Oh!” I cried in my joy and relief, “didn’t she understand me, then?”
The gay look on Mary’s face turned to one of reckless scorn. “If you mean Eleanore, yes. She is duly initiated, Mamma Hubbard. Knows that I love Mr. Clavering and write to him. I couldn’t keep it secret after the mistake you made last evening; so I did the next best thing, told her the truth.”
“Not that you were about to be married?”