“One of the chambermaids,” she thought and answered “There’s nothing you can do unless you rub my head. It aches very hard. Are you on this floor?”
Inez looked a little puzzled and replied, “On this floor? No; I room with the housekeeper. I am Inez,—Miss Prescott’s friend.”
“Oh!” and Mrs. Prescott’s eyes opened wide and a slight frown contracted her brow at what she thought an undue familiarity.
But something in Inez’s face disarmed her and brought back the picture of the woods and hills and river, with herself younger and happier than she was now. Before she could reply, Inez continued: “I used to rub mother’s head when it ached and she said it helped her. Father says I have a great deal of magnetism in my hands. I take it from him. Let me try.”
She knelt on the floor as she talked and began to manipulate Mrs. Prescott’s temples, which thrilled at once to the touch of her fingers.
“You are doing me good,” Mrs. Prescott said, lying very still while Inez smoothed her hair and rubbed her forehead and talked in her low, musical voice of her dead mother and what she used to do for her.
Mrs. Prescott listened until she had a pretty accurate knowledge of Anita and her grave among the hills and the cottage among the rocks and Inez’s handsome father. Then, as the pain in her head grew less, there came over her a feeling of restfulness and quiet. Inez’s voice was like the murmur of a brook she had heard somewhere. The leafy woods and hills and river were all blended together. Inez’s face, like something she had seen before, looked at her through the mist which was stealing over her senses and when Fanny came in she found her mother sleeping quietly, with Inez sitting by her and fanning her. After that Mrs. Prescott made no objection to her daughter’s intimacy with Inez.
“Yes, she is very nice, with something charming in her voice and manner. It is her Spanish blood, I think,” she said to Fanny, “but, of course, she is wholly untrained and knows nothing of the world. You could not have her for an associate in New York, but here it does not matter. Mrs. Ward, the housekeeper, tells me she is perfectly correct in her morals, and her father is highly respectable,—rather superior to his class which accounts for some things in Inez. I do not know that I shall object to your spending a day or so with her when we are in the Yosemite. I shall try and secure the services of her father as guide, if I go on any of the trails. They say he is exceptionally good.”
This was said a few days after Inez had left for her mountain home and Fanny was expressing a wish to visit her. The trip was planned for the middle of June, and Fanny, who had become greatly attached to Inez, was looking forward to meeting her again with nearly as much pleasure as to the Yosemite itself.