“If you please, Miss, ole Marse say how the carriage hasn’t come back long o’ the min’ser yet, and when he comes he will send and let you know,” the maid announced.
“Very well, Matilda; what have you got covered up on that tray?” inquired Miss Lyon.
“Please, I overtook Jake, awkward fellow, tumbling up stairs with this in his hands, which he said he was ordered to fetch it up for some one as was with you, and took it away from him to fetch it myself, because if I hadn’t, he’d have fallen down and broken all the glass and spilt all the wine,” answered the girl, turning a wistful glance upon the stranger.
“Quite right! Put the tray on that little table, and set the table here by the fire, and leave the room,” said Miss Lyon.
The maid obeyed orders.
When she was gone Miss Lyon uncovered the tray, and pressed the refreshments upon her visitor.
Drusilla eagerly drank the warm wine and water, but declined the dry toast.
“I have so much thirst all the time, but I cannot swallow a morsel of food, for it always chokes me!” she said, in explanation.
When the girl had emptied the glass, she seemed somewhat revived in strength, and Miss Lyon again suggested that she should make the communication she promised.
With a deep sigh, with her head bowed upon her bosom and her hands clasped upon her knees, the girl began the story of her short life and long sorrow.