"I hope I shall not be obliged to see any of these wretches!" imprudently exclaimed Sybil.
"They are devils, not wretches, if I know them and know the meaning of words! But reflect, madam, that to these wretches, as you call them, you owe your liberty and perhaps your life," said the elfin-like hostess, resentfully.
"My liberty! And here I am a captive among you."
"Only for a time; only until we can place you in perfect safety on a foreign shore. And that we are sworn to do. And is not this comparatively honorable captivity; better than the degrading one of the county jail?"
Sybil paled and shuddered through all her frame as she answered:
"I should be grateful for all this—but—but—my husband!"
"Oh, bother, there it is again! Always the same mew! If there's anything in the world makes me feel ill, it is a love-sick woman!" exclaimed the strange girl. But her short-lived anger quickly disappeared, and holding out her tiny brown hand to her guest, she said:
"Come, get up and wash! There is some fresh water and clean towels. And there is a change of clothing, if you wish to have it. And here am I, to serve as your lady's maid. And when you are dressed, there will be a dinner ready for you, of which I may say that the Govenor of the State will not sit down to a better one to-day."
Sybil gave her hand in token of reconciliation, and then arose from her couch of leaves. Very glad was she of the opportunity of washing and changing her dress; for of all the petty privations that were mixed up with her great troubles, she felt most the want of fresh water and clean clothes.
The girl waited on her kindly and skilfully. And Sybil would have been well pleased had she not, in taking up one of the fresh damask towels, saw on it the initials of her friend Beatrix Pendleton. She held it up to the view of her hostess, and looked inquiringly.