“I do remember now,” Anna replied. “Mrs. Hastings can go in at once. She must be tired; and, Pamelia, send lunch to her room, and tell your husband to bring up her trunk.”
Again Pamelia bowed and departed to do her young mistress’ bidding, while Adah entered the pleasant room where Dr. Richards had slept the previous night, leaving behind him, as he always did, an odor of cigars. Adah detected the perfume, but it was not disagreeable—on the contrary, it reminded her of George, and for a brief moment there stole over her a feeling as if in some way she were brought very near to him by being in Dr. Richards’ room! What a cosy place it was, and how she wished the people at Spring Bank could know all about it. How thankful they would be, and how thankful she was for this resting place in the protection of sweet Anna Richards. It was better than she had ever dared to hope for, and sinking down by the snowy-covered bed, she murmured inaudibly the prayer of thanksgiving to Him who had led her to Terrace Hill.
There were dark frowns on the faces of the mother and elder sisters when they learned of Anna’s decision with regard to Adah, but Anna’s income, received from the Aunt for whom she was named, gave her a right to act as she pleased, so they contented themselves with a few ill natured remarks concerning her foolishness, and the airs the waiting-maid put on. Adah, or Hastings as they called her, was not their idea of a waiting-maid, and they watched her curiously whenever she came in their sight, wondering at her cultivated manners and how Anna would ever manage one apparently so much her equal. Anna wondered so too, for it was an awkward business, requiring a menial’s service of that lady-like creature, with language so pure and manner so refined, and she would have been exceedingly perplexed had not Adah’s good sense come to the rescue, prompting her to do things unasked, and to do them in such a way that Anna was at once relieved from all embarrassment, and felt that she had found a treasure indeed. She did not join the family in the evening, but kept her room instead, talking with Adah, and caressing and playing with little Willie, who persisted in calling her “Arn-tee,” in spite of all Adah could say.
“Never mind,” Anna answered, laughingly; “I rather like to hear him. No one has ever called me by that name, and maybe never will, though my brother is engaged to be married in the spring. I have a picture of his betrothed there on my bureau. Would you like to see it?”
Adah nodded, and was soon gazing on the dark, haughty face she knew so well, and which even from the casing, seemed to smile disdainfully, upon her, just as the original had often done. There was Ellen Tiffton’s bracelet upon the rounded arm, Ellen’s chain upon the bare neck, while twined among the braids of her hair was something which looked like a bandeau of pearls, and which had been borrowed for the occasion of Mrs. Ellsworth, Irving’s sister.
“What do you think of her?” Anna asked, wondering a little at the expression of Adah’s face.
Adah must say something, and she replied,
“I dare say people think her pretty.”
“Yes; but what do you think? I asked your opinion,” persisted Anna, and thus beset Adah replied at last,
“I think her too showily dressed for a picture. She displays too much jewelry.”