"But why do you wish to conceal?" she asked, after Adah had finished.
"Is there any reason?"
"At first there was none in particular, save a fancy I had, but there
came one afterward--the request of one who had been, kind to me as a
dear mother. Is it wrong not to tell the whole?"
"I think not. You have dealt honestly with me so far, but what shall I
call you? You must have a name."
"Oh, may I stay?" Adah asked eagerly, forgetting her late terror of
'Lina.
"Of course you may. Did you think I would turn you away?" was Anna's
reply; and laying her head upon the white counterpane of the bed, Adah
cried passionately; not a wild, bitter cry, but a delicious kind of cry
which did her good, even though her whole frame quivered and her low,
choking sobs fell distinctly on Anna's ear.
"Poor child!" the latter said, laying her soft hand on the bowed head.
"You have suffered much, but with me you shall find rest. I want you for
a companion, rather than a maid. I, too, have had my heart troubles;
not like yours, but heavy enough to make me wish I could die."
It was seldom that Anna alluded to herself in this way, and to do so to
a stranger was utterly foreign to the Richards' nature. But Anna could
not help it. There was something about Adah which interested her
greatly. She could not wholly shield her from her mother's and sisters'
pride, but she would do what she could.
"Oh, pride, pride," she whispered to herself, "of how much pain hast
thou been the cause."
Pride had sent her Charlie over the sea without her; pride had separated
her brother from the Lily she was sure he loved, as he could never love
the maiden to whom he was betrothed; and pride, it seemed, had been at
the root of all this young girl's sorrow. Blessed Anna Richards--the
world has few like her--so gentle, so kind, so lovely, and as no one
could long be with her and not feel her influence, so Adah, by the touch
of the fingers still caressing her, was soothed into peaceful quiet.
When she had grown quite calm, Anna continued: "You have not told me yet
what name to give you, or shall I choose one for you?"
"Oh, if you only would!" and Adah looked up quickly.
Anna began to enjoy this mystery, wondering what name she should choose.
Adah should be Rose Markham, and she repeated it aloud, asking Adah how
it sounded.
"If it did not seem so much like deceiving," Adah said. "You'll tell
your family it is not my real name, won't you?"
Anna readily agreed to Adah's proposal, and then, remembering that all
this time she had been sitting in her cloak and fur, she bade her lay
them aside. "Or, stay," she added, "touch that bell, if you please, and
ring Pamelia up. There's a little room adjoining this. I mean to give
you that. You will be so near me, and so retired, too, when you like.
John--that's my brother--occupied it when a boy. I think it will answer
nicely for you."