Now it must be known that Paolina had taken to her new life with unexpected cheerfulness; and the reason was shortly to be disclosed.
“Signorina,” Paolina began timidly, while she dressed her mistress's hair in a high French twist, placed a bow of pale blue ribbon fetchingly to the left of the coil, poised it there like a butterfly with wings outspread,—“Signorina—would—you be very angry if I confided to you, something?”
“It depends upon what the something is, Paolina,” said Ruth absently, giving her attention to the becoming effect of the bow.
“Oh, Signorina!” sighed Paolina. Suddenly she clasped her hands; she held them out before her, dropped to her knees. “Oh! Signorina! Jobias has asked me to marry him!”
“Jobias—has—asked you—to—marry him?” repeated Ruth in astonishment. Then she began to laugh—laughed in merry peals of musical laughter, her head thrown back, her face a ripple of mirth.
But Paolina was quite offended.
“Signorina,” she said, and she rose with dignity, “why should it make you laugh to learn that Tobias has asked me to marry him?”
“Forgive me, Paolina,” Ruth said; “it is not that Jobias has asked you to marry him that makes me laugh—it is the tone in which you break the news to me.” Then, gravely: “And what did you say to him, Paolina, when he asked you to marry him?”
“Signorina, I said I would have to ask you. I said that you were a mother to me, and that I would have to get your consent.”
“So,—” said Ruth, “you really think of accepting him?”