"I will see that you are waited upon," he said gently; "and I will send Clam to you by and by for your orders. Will you stay here for a little while? — and then I will take care of you."
How she wished his words meant more than she knew they did.
She bowed her head, thinking so.
"Can I give you anything?"
She managed to say a smothered 'no,' and he went; first pulling out of his pocket his little bible which he laid upon the table.
Was that by way of answering his own question? It might be, or he might not have wanted it in his pocket. Whether or no, Elizabeth seized it and drew it towards her, and as if it had contained the secret charm and panacea for all her troubles, she laid her hands and her head upon it, and poured out there her new and her old sorrows; wishing even then that Winthrop could have given her the foundation of strength on which his own strong spirit rested.
After a long while, or what seemed such, she heard the door softly open and some one come in. The slow careful step was none that she knew, and Elizabeth did not look up till it had gone out and the door had closed again. It was Mrs. Nettley, and Mrs. Nettley had softly left on the table a waiter of breakfast. Elizabeth looked at it, and laid her head down again.
The next interruption came an hour later and was a smarter one. Elizabeth had wearied herself with weeping, and lay comparatively quiet on the couch.
"Miss 'Lizabeth," said the new-comer, in more gentle wise than it was her fashion to look or speak, — "Mr. Winthrop said I was to come and get your orders about what you wanted."
"I can't give orders — Do what you like," said Elizabeth keeping her face hid.
"If I knowed what 'twas," — said Clam, sending her eye round the room for information or suggestion. "Mr. Winthrop said I was to come. — Why you haven't took no breakfast?"