“You must have lost them before you came home; I can’t find them anywhere. Let me read the letter to you.”
“No; I must have my glasses. Perhaps I dropped them in the carriage. Send word to the driver to look for them. It was very careless in me to lose them, but I am growing so forgetful. Rachel, do hunt for my spectacles.”
Salome ground her teeth to suppress a cry of vexation; and, to conceal her impatience, joined heartily in the search.
Finally she found the glasses on the front steps, where they had fallen when their owner left the carriage; and, feeling that adverse fate could no longer keep her in suspense, she hurried into the house and adjusted them on Miss Jane’s eagle nose.
Conscious that she was fast losing control over the nerves that were quivering from long-continued tension, Salome stepped to the open window and stood waiting. Would the old lady never finish the perusal? The minutes seemed hours, and the pulsing of the blood in the girl’s ears sounded like muttering thunder.
Miss Jane sighed heavily,—cleared her throat, and sighed again.
“It is very sad, indeed! It is too bad,—too bad!”
Salome turned around, and exclaimed, savagely,—
“Why can’t you speak out? What is the matter? What has happened?”
“Ulpian’s friend is dead.”