“Then go and meet her, and ask her to come to me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the boy, darting out to do his errand.
In a few moments Odalite came in, looking anxiously at her mother.
“You sent for me, mamma. You are not well. Have you a headache?” she inquired, tenderly.
“No, darling, a heartache, rather. Lay off your bonnet and coat, Odalite, and come here and sit beside me on this sofa.”
Odalite obeyed, still full of vague forebodings.
“I hear, my love,” said the lady, putting her arm around the girl’s slight waist, as they sat together, “that a great honor has been offered you this morning.”
Odalite looked up, uneasily.
“Do you understand me, darling?” the lady inquired, gently pressing the form of her child, and gazing fondly in her face.
“I—I—think I know what you allude to, mamma; but—I did not consider it an honor,” faltered the girl, dropping her eyes.