“Very well,” she said, without looking at him, and she followed her aunt out of the room. Annie and Mary seized her at the door and hurried her upstairs. Bessie was waiting for her with her traveling dress laid out on the bed, and everything that required packing ready to start.
She glanced at her beloved mistress with an inquiring look, and her eyes grew moist as she saw that the cold, stony look which had been upon her white face still dwelt there.
“Are you tired, Miss Ol—ma’am?” she said, coloring at her mistake.
Olivia started and stared at her; then, seeming to realize all that had happened to her in the loss of the maiden prefix, she made a gesture of assent, and sank into the old chair in which she had spent so many hours of late, dreaming of the past and dreading the future.
Bessie bent over her.
“Wouldn’t you like to rest, miss? There is plenty of time; I can dress you in half an hour.”
Olivia raised her eyes to the face of the devoted girl.
“Oh, if I could!” she breathed.
Bessie turned to the others instantly, and said, firmly, but respectfully:
“Miss Olivia—my mistress would like to rest a little while, ma’am, if you wouldn’t mind leaving her.”