“Here is a letter, Senhora,” said Joanna from the doorway; “the person who brought it is waiting for an answer.”
What a fright! It was from Juliana. It was written on ruled paper, in a large hand, and was full of orthographical errors. It ran as follows:—
SENHORA,—I know very well that I was too hasty, but the senhora must attribute my conduct to my poor health and my misfortunes, for these sometimes make one ill-tempered. If the senhora wishes me to return, and resume my former position (to which I do not think she will object), I shall be very glad to make myself agreeable to her, and I am confident nothing unpleasant will ever occur, always provided that the senhora fulfils her promise. I, on my side, will promise to perform my duties faithfully, and I hope the senhora will accept, for the good of every one concerned. What I said was on the spur of the moment, for every one has occasional fits of ill-temper; and, without troubling her further, I remain the senhora’s humble servant,
JULIANA CONCEIRO TAVIRA.
Luiza stood for a moment with the letter in her hand, unable to decide upon an answer. Her first impulse was to say no. To take her back that she might see her again continually before her, with her hideous countenance, to know that she had her letters in her pocket, and to call her to render her services, to be waited upon by her! No! But she reflected that if she refused and the other were to get angry, Heaven only knew what she might do. Her fate was in her own hands; she must endure everything; this was her punishment. She hesitated a moment longer, and then said to Joanna,—
“Say yes; that she may come back!”
Juliana, in effect, returned to the house at eight o’clock that evening. She went up to the top story, pausing on each step, put on her working-dress and her slippers, and then went to the laundry, where Joanna was sewing by the light of a candle.
Joanna, full of curiosity, immediately began to overwhelm her with questions. Where had she been? What had happened to her? Why had she sent no word of herself?
Juliana answered that she had gone to see a friend who lived in the Avenue Marquez d’Abrantes, and that while there she was seized with a sudden attack of flatulency and pain. She had not sent word, because she expected soon to be well enough to return; but she had spent half a day in bed.
She wanted to know, in her turn, what the senhora had been doing, if she had gone out, if any one had called.