“Go, for the love of God, Joanna! Say nothing, but go!”
And losing all sense of self-respect she fell on her knees before the girl, sobbing,—
“For Christ’s sake, Joanna, go! Go at once, dear Joanna!”
The girl, terrified, began to cry.
“I am going; yes, dear mistress, I will go!”
“Yes, Joanna, yes. I will give you something. You shall see. But don’t cry. Wait.”
She ran downstairs to her room, took from a drawer two pounds of her savings, ran quickly upstairs again, and putting the money into her hand, said in a low voice,—
“Take this to make a jacket for yourself, and to-morrow I will send your trunk.”
“Yes, Senhora, yes,” responded the other, sobbing. “Yes, dear Senhora!”
Luiza went to her room, and throwing herself on the sofa, buried her face among the cushions, sobbing, wishing for death, asking God in her terror to take pity upon her.