She had decided upon this plan since leaving Holburton, for the nearer she drew to Rothsay the more she began to dread and fear the man who she knew had outlived all love and respect for her. But only Aunt Axie’s broad, black face looked out into the rain, and beamed a smile on Luke, the driver, who was a distant relative.
Springing lightly from the carriage Josey ran up the steps into the hall, where she stood while Agnes joined her, and Luke deposited the heavy trunks and claimed his customary fee, and a little more on the plea of “so many big boxes to tote.”
But Josephine refused him sharply, and then followed Aunt Axie into the cold reception-room, where no fire had been made that day, for Rossie had never abandoned her determination to use as little as possible of the Forrest money, and nothing superfluous was expended either in fuel, or eatables, or dress. So far as her own income,—a matter of one hundred and forty dollars or thereabouts,—was concerned, she was very generous and free; but when it came to Everard’s money, as she called it, her economies were almost painful at times, and wrung many a remonstrance from old Axie, the cook.
With a shiver and a quick, curious glance around the cheerless room, Josephine turned to Aunt Axie and said:
“Is Mr. Forrest at home,—Mr. Everard Forrest?”
“No, miss. He done went away quite a spell ago, but Miss Rossie’s ’spectin’ him every day. He don’t live here, though, when he’s home; he stay mostly in de town.”
Josephine did not understand her, and continued:
“He will come here, I suppose, as soon as he returns?”
“Yes, miss, he’s sure to do dat,” and Axie nodded knowingly.
Of course, she had no suspicion who this lady was, walking about the room and examining the furniture with a critical and not favorable eye, and asking, at last, if there was no fire where she could warm herself after her cold ride?