“The senhora is very good, Joanna,” she said; “she is an angel!”
Luiza returned to her room full of joy. She felt like one who has lost his way at night in the open country, and suddenly sees a light shining in a window in the distance. She was saved! She had only to give Juliana presents,—to satiate her with them. She began to think of other things she might give her, one by one,—her garnet gown, under-clothing, a bracelet—
Two days afterwards—it was on a Sunday—she received a telegram from Jorge. “I leave Carregado to-morrow. Will arrive by the train from Oporto at six A. M.” What a fright! At last he was coming home!
She was young and she loved Jorge, and every other feeling was soon swallowed up in the thought of her happiness at seeing him again, and of his first kiss. She looked at herself in the glass; she had grown thinner, and her face had a tired expression. Jorge’s image presented itself to her mind in clearly-defined outlines,—his complexion slightly bronzed by the sun, his curling locks, and his black eyes. How strange! Never before had she so longed to see him. She at once began to busy herself in making preparations for his arrival. Was the study in order? Perhaps he would wish to take a bath; the large bath-tub must be filled. She went about the house singing, with a feverish light in her eyes. The voice of Juliana in the hall made her shudder. What would she do? If she would at least leave her to enjoy in peace the first few days after Jorge’s return. She felt a momentary courage, and called to her.
“Did you wish anything, Senhora?”
“The master is coming home to-morrow,” said Luiza.
She paused, with her heart beating violently.
“Ah!” responded Juliana; “very well, Senhora;” and she was about to go.
“Juliana,” said Luiza, in uncertain accents.
The other turned around in surprise; and Luiza, clasping her hands with a supplicating gesture, cried,—