“Yes, grandfather, I think I had better go home as soon as possible,” she said in a low and trembling voice. “The closeness of the room till you came, together with the anxiety and excitement, has been too much for me. But the open air will set me right.”
“Ought not the lady to have a sedan?” inquired Aleph. “I saw a stand at the last corner as we came.”
“Certainly,” said Seti: “and where are the two servants, Rachel, who came with you?”
“Are they not at the door? I left them there, to be within call.”
“I did not notice them when we came. Did you?”—turning to Aleph.
Aleph shook his head. “Allow me to go for a sedan,” said he, “and we will see the lady safely home.”
“Thank you—that will do.”
Aleph hastened away. During his absence, which was short, Rachel reclined; and on his return with a chair and two stout porters he found her much revived and quite disposed to dismiss the vehicle as being unnecessary. But this Seti would not permit. And she speedily found that he was right; for, on trying to walk to the door, she found it necessary to accept support from both men. But the open air of the street seemed to recall her strength at once, and she entered the sedan without help.
Seti walked before the vehicle to guide. Aleph walked behind—every now and then quieting the motion of the bearers by a word, and once or twice venturing to draw aside the curtain and inquire in a grave, sympathetic way how the lady was enduring the jolting. The answer was satisfactory and cordial: and when the house of Alexander was reached she professed to feel as well and strong as ever, and proved it by darting up the steps without aid. Turning, as the door opened, she threw down thanks and adieu with the gesture of a goddess and disappeared.