"I said, '—Let me bring you a nice cup of tea, Miss.'—It is always best to bring ladies tea when they are upset, Sir Nicholas, as you may know—She thanked me sweet like, as she always does—and I made so bold as to say how sorry I was, and I did hope she had not had any extra trouble to deal with over it; and how I'd be so glad to advance her her next week's salary if it would be any convenience to her—knowing funerals and doctors is expensive—Out of my own money of course I gave her to understand—because I knew she'd be bound to refuse yours, Sir Nicholas.
"—At that her tears burst out afresh—She had no glasses on, and she looked no more than sixteen years old, give you my word Sir—She thanked me like as if it was something real kind I'd thought of—I felt sort of ashamed I could not do more—
"Then she seemed to be having a struggle with herself—just as if she'd rather die than take anything from anybody—and yet knew she had to—She turned them, blue eyes on me streamin' with tears, and I had to turn away, Sir Nicholas—I had really.—
"'Burton,' she says—. 'Have you ever felt that you wanted to be dead and done with it all—that you couldn't fight any more?'
—"'I can't say as I have, Miss,' I answered her—'but I know my master feels that way often—' Perhaps she felt kinder, sorry for you too, Sir Nicholas, because as I said that, she gave a sort of extra sharp sob and buried her face in her hands—.
"I slipped out of the room then and brought the tea as quick as I could you may believe me Sir—and by that time she had pulled herself together—'It is stupid to have any proud feelings—if you have to work Burton' she said—'I will be—grateful for the loan of your money—and I am happy to have such a friend' ... and she put out her little bit of a hand—She did, Sir Nicholas—and I never felt so proud in my life—She's just a real lady to her finger tips. She is, Sir—I shook it as gentle as I could, and then was obliged to blow my nose, I felt that blubberish—I left the room at once, and when I come back for the tray, and to bring the money she had her hat on, and the note written for you Sir—I took the violets and began putting them in the box for her to take—but she stopped me—.
"'Violets fade so soon—I will not take them, thanks,' she said—'I have to do some shopping before I go home and I could not carry them.' But I knew it was not that.—She did not want to take them—perhaps she felt she'd given up enough of her pride to take my money—for one day—So I said nothing,—but that I did hope she would be feeling better by the time she came to the appartement on Saturday. She did not speak, she just nodded her head and smiled kind like at me and went."
I could not answer Burton—I too just nodded my head—and the dear old boy left me alone—My very heart seemed bursting with pain and remorse—When he had gone—I seized the letter and opened it.
"To Sir Nicholas Thormonde, Bart, V.C.," (it began, and then)
"Dear Sir: