But Miriam refused all refreshment, and hurried to her room. It was warmed and lighted by old Jenny's care, and the good creature followed her young mistress with affectionate proffers of aid.
"Wouldn't she have a strong cup of tea? Wouldn't she have a hot bath? Wouldn't she have her bed warmed? Wouldn't she have a bowl of nice hot mulled wine? Dear, dear! she was so sorry, but it would have frightened herself to death if the carriage had upset with her, and no wonder Miss Miriam was knocked up entirely."
"No, no, no!"
Miriam would have nothing, and old Jenny reluctantly left her—to repose? Ah, no! with fever in her veins, to walk up and down and up and down the floor of her room with fearful unrest. Up and down, until the candle burned low, and sunk drowned in its socket; until the fire on the hearth smouldered and went out; until the stars in the sky waned with the coming day; until the rising sun kindled all the eastern horizon; and then, attired as she was, she sank upon the outside of her bed and fell into a heavy sleep of exhaustion.
She arose unrefreshed, and after a hasty toilet descended to the breakfast-parlor, where she knew the little family awaited her.
"The journey and the fright have been too much for you, love; you look very weary; you should have rested longer this morning," said Mr. Willcoxen, affectionately, as he arose and met her and led her to the most comfortable seat near the fire.
His fine countenance, elevated, grave and gentle in expression, his kind and loving manner, smote all the tender chords of Miriam's heart.
Could that man be guilty of the crime she had dared to suspect him of?
Oh, no, no, no! never! Every lineament of his face, every inflection of his voice, as well as every act of his life, and every trait of his character, forbade the dreadful imputation!
But then the evidence—the damning evidence! Her reeled with the doubt as she sank into the seat he offered her.