For a moment Anna was inclined to think that Pamelia had made a mistake.
That beautiful face, that refined, ladylike manner, did not suit well a
waiting maid, and Anna's doubts were increasing, when little Willie set
her right by patting her cheek again, while he called out: "Mamma,
arntee."
The look of interest which Anna cast upon him emboldened Adah to say: "Excuse him, Miss Richards; he must have mistaken you for a dear friend
at home, whom he calls 'Auntie,' I'll take him down; he troubles you."
"No, no," and Anna passed her arm around him. "I love children so much.
I ought to have been a wife and mother, my brother says, instead of a
useless old maid."
Anna smiled faintly as she said this, while thoughts of Charlie
Millbrook flashed across her mind. Adah was too much a stranger to
disclaim against Anna's calling herself old, so she paid no attention to
the remark, but plunged at once into the matter which had brought her
there. Presuming they would rather be alone, Pamelia had purposely left
the room, meeting in the lower hall with Mrs. Richards and her daughter,
who, in much affright, were searching for the recent occupants of the
reception-room. Pamelia quieted them by saying: "The lady was in Miss
Anna's room."
"How came she there? She must be a bold piece, upon my word!" she said,
angrily, while Pamelia replied: "The little boy got upstairs, and walked right into Miss Anna's room.
She was taken with him at once, and asked who he was. I told her and she
sent for the lady. That's how it happened."
Mrs. Richards hurried up to Anna's chamber, where Willie still was
perched by Anna's pillow, while Adah, with her bonnet in her lap, sat a
little apart, traces of tears and agitation upon her cheeks, but a look
of happiness in the brown eyes fixed so wistfully on Anna's fair, sweet
face.
"Please, mother," said Anna, motioning her away, "leave us alone a
while. Shut the door, and see that no one comes near."
Mrs. Richards obeyed, and Anna, waiting until she was out of hearing,
resumed the conversation just where it had been interrupted.
"And so you are the one who wrote that advertisement which I read. Let
me see--the very night my brother came home from Europe. I remember he
laughed because I was so interested, and he accidentally tore off the
name to light his cigar, so I forgot it entirely. What shall I call you,
please?"
Adah was tempted to answer her at once, "Adah Hastings"--it seemed so
wrong to impose in any way on that frank, sweet woman; but she
remembered Mrs. Worthington's injunction, and for her sake she
refrained, keeping silent a moment, and then breaking out impetuously:
"Please, Miss Richards, don't ask my real name, for I'd rather not give
it now. I will tell you of the past, though I did not ever mean to do
that; but something about you makes me know I can trust you." And then,
amid a shower of tears, in which Anna's, too, were mingled, Adah told
her sad story.