“Let me see,” said the landlord in his leisurely way. “It’s three o’clock now, ain’t it? Yes—well, the boy’ll be back by four, and if you start then you’ll get there by six or seven. You’ll be there in time to dress for the wedding, Miss, which I hear is to be performed by special license at eight o’clock in the evening.”
“Very well. Thank you.”
“And now, Miss, is there anything else we can do for you?” inquired the slow host.
“No; thanks. Yes! you may send a chamber-maid here,” replied Drusilla, incoherently, for in her intense excitement she scarcely knew what she was in need of, or what she was talking about.
When the host had taken his little round head out of the doorway, mammy, who had kept silence for some time, said:
“Now, ma’am, if so it is that you will go farther and fare worse to-night, and if you have an hour before you I strongly ’vises of you to take a bedroom and lie down until it is time for you to start, and then to take a cup of tea before you do start. You must keep up your strength. If the matter you come ’bout is so very important, it won’t do for you to break down, you know.”
Drusilla stopped in her excited walk and reflected. The advice of the nurse was very good. There were other reasons besides care for her own comfort to induce her to engage rooms here. For one thing, she intended to leave her nurse in charge of the luggage, for she was resolved to have no more witnesses to the humiliation of her poor Alick than was absolutely unavoidable; and for another thing, she was resolved to stay no longer at the Old Hall than was necessary to do her painful errand there, but to return as soon as possible to the inn. Therefore, she answered mammy assentingly:
“You are right, nurse. You generally are so, in fact. Here comes the chamber-maid I sent for, and I will order rooms.”
A bright-eyed negro girl stood in the doorway, curtseying and waiting orders.
In a few words the lady gave them.