“Oh! Aunt Sophie, I do grieve to leave you, but I must go—I must,” sighed Lilith.
And she held to her resolution in spite of all the good woman could say.
For Lilith felt that since her husband would not relent, would not retract, would not call her back, the farther she could get away from the scene of her suffering the more contented she might be. In change of scene and foreign travel she might forget her misery.
Aunt Sophie, since she could not persuade her favorite to stay with her, busied herself in helping in the final preparations for her sea voyage. She packed little jars of home-made pickles and acid preserves, and little boxes of delicate biscuits and cakes, for Lilith’s private use.
“For,” she said, “though I know them ocean steamers have all the luxuries that can be bought with money, yet I do think as these home-made things is better. And though you mayn’t be downright sea-sick, honey, you’re bound to be a little bit mawkish with the motion of the vessel, and then these little things might suit your appetite when nothing else would.”
“I am sure of it, dear Aunt Sophie. Even a cup of tea is all the sweeter and more refreshing when it is poured out by a friend’s hand,” replied Lilith. Whereupon Aunt Sophie shed a few tears—weakly, not unhappily.
The last day before the sailing came. All the luggage was to be sent down on board the steamer that afternoon; and the next morning the baroness was to call in her carriage to pick up her companion on her way to the ship.
All that forenoon Aunt Sophie wept softly to herself, furtively wiping her eyes whenever she could get a chance.
“I don’t want the child to see me cry. It will only make her feel bad,” she said to herself as she dodged Lilith.
At noon Lilith’s trunk was taken down to the hall, to wait for the expressman to call and carry it to the ship.