“But what?”
“Why, Mrs. Wilton and Miss Pamela are going to sail for Genoa to-morrow, and that puts an end to my going to New York to them.”
A great brightness overspread Sylvia's face. “Well, you ain't left stranded,” she said. “You've got your home here.”
Rose looked gratefully at her. “You do make me feel as if I had, and I don't know what I should do if you did not, but”—she frowned perplexedly—“all the same, one would not have thought they would have gone off in this way without giving me a moment's notice,” she said, in rather an injured fashion, “after I have lived with them so long. I never thought they really cared much about me. Mrs. Wilton and Miss Pamela look too hard at their own tracks to get much interest in anybody or anything outside; but starting off in this way! They might have thought that I would like to go—at least they might have told me.”
Suddenly her frown of perplexity cleared away. “I know what has happened,” she said, with a nod to Sylvia. “I know exactly what has happened.”
“What?”
“Mrs. Wilton's and Miss Pamela's aunt Susan has died, and they've got the money. They have been waiting for it ever since I have been with them. Their aunt was over ninety, and it did begin to seem as if she would never die.”
“Was she very rich?”
“Oh, very; millions; and she never gave a cent to Mrs. Wilton and Miss Pamela. She has died, and they have just made up their minds to go away. They have always said they should live abroad as soon as they were able.” Rose looked a little troubled for a moment, then she laughed. “They kept me as long as they needed me,” said she, with a pleasant cynicism, “and I don't know but I had lived with them long enough to suit myself. Mrs. Wilton and Miss Pamela were always nice to me, but sometimes—well, sometimes I felt so outside them that I was awfully lonesome. And Mrs. Wilton always did just what you knew she would, and so did Miss Pamela, and it was a little like living with machines that were wound up to do the right thing by you, but didn't do it of their own accord. Now they have run down, just like machines. I know as well as I want to that Aunt Susan has died and left them her money. I shall get a letter to-morrow telling me about it. I think myself that Mrs. Wilton and Miss Pamela will get married now. They never gave up, you know. Mrs. Wilton's husband died ages ago, and she was as much of an old maid as Miss Pamela, and neither of them would give up. They will be countesses or duchesses or something within a year.”
Rose laughed, and Sylvia beamed upon her. “If you feel that you can stay here,” she said, timidly.