“You are sheltering me as well as I am sheltering you,” she said, in a low voice.
Maria did not know what to say. Miss Blair leaned back again and closed her eyes, and a look of perfect peace and content was on her face.
It was not long before the train rolled into the New York tunnel. Miss Blair's maid rose and took down her mistress's travelling cloak of black silk, which she brushed with a little, ivory brush taken from her travelling-bag.
“This young lady is going home with us, Adelaide,” said Miss Blair.
“Yes, ma'am,” replied the maid, without the slightest surprise.
She took Maria's coat from the hook where it swung, and brushed it also, and assisted her to put it on before the porter entered the car.
Maria felt again in a daze, but a great sense of security was over her. She had not the slightest doubt of this strange little creature who was befriending her. She felt like one who finds a ledge of safety on a precipice where he had feared a sheer descent. She was content to rest awhile on the safe footing, even if it were only transient.
When they alighted from the train at the station a man in livery met them and assisted Miss Blair down the steps with obsequiousness.
“How do you do, James?” said Miss Blair, then went on to ask the man what horses were in the carriage.
“The bays, Miss Blair,” replied the man, respectfully.