“The risk is mine alone, nurse. And now hush, for here is the waiter come to lay the cloth for our breakfast,” said Drusilla.
Very soon a most delicious morning meal was laid before them—fragrant coffee, maple-sugar, rich cream, hot rolls, fresh butter, venison steaks, pure honey—luxuries to be found in their perfections only on the mountains.
Mammy inhaled the aromas arising from this breakfast table as though every breath was a delight. She coaxed and scolded her mistress into making a very good meal.
And then she made a very much better one herself.
After this they prepared to resume their journey.
In going out to take her seat in the coach, Drusilla drew down her veil to avoid recognition, in any chance-meeting with Mr. Hammond. She need not have done so, for poor Dick was in the bar-room treating his friends.
The weather was worse than ever. From the clouds above the rain was pouring in torrents; from the valleys below the vapors were rising in heavy fogs. The boundaries of the mountain scenery were lost in mist.
The day was as dim with a white obscurity as the night had been with a black one.
Drusilla and her attendant had the inside of the coach all to themselves for the next few hours.
Drusilla, almost worn out with her journey, reclined at nearly full length upon the back seat.