She spoke the last words as if merely thinking aloud, and not addressing an auditor.
“Can I aid you in anything, madam?” said I, breaking in upon a state of reverie into which her mind seemed to be falling. “The circumstances under which you find yourself are peculiar—I refer to the death of Mrs. Allen, following so quickly on your arrival among strangers—and you may stand in need of friendly service from one who knows the people and their ways. If so, do not hesitate to command me.”
“I thank you sincerely,” she answered, unbending still more from her almost stately manner. “Friendly consideration I shall need, of course—as who does not in this world? And I repeat my thanks, that you have so kindly and so promptly anticipated my needs So far as the remains of my unhappy kinswoman are concerned, I have referred all to the undertaker. He will carry out my wishes. To-morrow the interment will take place. On the day following, if it it is altogether agreeable to yourself, I would esteem a call as a particular favor.”
I arose, as she concluded the last sentence, saying as I did so,
“I will be sure to call, madam; and render any service in my power. You may regard me as a friend.”
“Already you have extorted my confidence,” she answered, faintly smiling.
I bowed low, and was retiring when she said—
“A moment, Doctor!”
I turned toward her again.
“Doctor, it may be well for you to see my daughter.”