The Major started at the sound of the sweet voice as if he had been clapped on the shoulder.
“Oh, ah! I beg your pardon. Let me see—six linen shirts—five dollars each—thirty dollars—all right.” And the Major looked up from the bill into her face. He felt a delight he could not account for in gazing upon its sweet beauty. She was confused by his ardent look, and became still more beautiful from her sweet confusion. With instinctive delicacy he withdrew his gaze, and a sigh, the first he had felt for twenty years, escaped him. A gentle sadness at the same time overspread his fine features. Again he looked into her face, but with an expression that she did not shrink from, and said kindly, touchingly,
“So then, sweet child, you are an orphan.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your name?”
“Mary Lee.”
“A pretty name.”
“Sir, I have another errand to go—if you will please pay the bill for my mistress.”
“Oh, ah! yes, the bill. Thirty dollars. Here is a check for the amount.”
“I thank you, sir,” said Mary, curtseying with a grace that charmed him, and turning to leave.