She did not trouble her with conversation, but after making her room tidy, she went quietly out and left her alone. She returned after a little while, however, bringing her a bowl of hot soup and a plate of nice little biscuits.
“You are very good to me, Mrs. Blunt,” Star said, gratefully; and she ate the soup with a relish, for she was very faint and hungry, while the housekeeper looked on with a satisfied air as she saw a tinge of color coming back to her pale face.
“Somebody else was good to a poor old woman yesterday, or I’m much mistaken, and I reckon it’ll take a good while for you and me to be quits on that day’s work,” the kind-hearted creature returned, a tear starting to her eyes as she remembered how bright and happy the fair girl had been during those long hours while she had worked so busily and patiently with her.
But she could not stay with her, much as she wished to do so, and try to bring back her truant smiles, for her many duties called her below, and she went away, cautioning Star to be very careful and not take more cold.
Left alone, the unhappy girl felt that she must get out and away from that close room where she had suffered so much; she must do something to make her forget, or her brain would be turned.
So, wrapping a shawl about her, she stole down a back way, out by a side door into the grounds, and taking a circuitous path, made her way as rapidly as her strength would permit toward the lodge.
She had accomplished about half the distance when her limbs began to fail her, and she became so weak and faint from the exertion she had made that she was obliged to stop and lean against the trunk of a large tree to rest awhile.
It was nearly dark, for the sun had gone down and the heavy foliage of the surrounding trees made deep shadows all about her; the air was chill with the breath of the frost spirit—so different from the mild loveliness which had prevailed only forty-eight hours before—and the rustling leaves above her seemed mourning over the fate awaiting them, when its cold hand should sway their frail stems and lay them low.
A feeling of unutterable woe overcame her—such a sense of loneliness and desolation that she could not bear it; and covering her face with her hands, she gave way to the flood of tears which would not be restrained.
She had no idea how long she wept—time, place, everything was lost in the utter abandonment of her grief—until she was aroused, and a thrill of terror went tingling through all her nerves, as a hand fell suddenly yet lightly upon her shoulder.