"No, not my head, not my head," and Adah continued impetuously; "Anna,
tell me, have I pleased you?--do you like me? would you, could you love
me if I were your equal--love me as I do you?"
Anna noticed that the "Miss" was dropped from her name, that her maid
was treating her more familiarly than she had ever done before; and for
an instant a flush showed on her cheek, for pride was Anna's besetting
sin, the one from which she daily prayed to be delivered. There was an
inward struggle, a momentary conflict, such as every Christian warrior
has felt at times, and then the flush was gone from the white cheek, and
her hand still lay on Adah's head, as she replied: "I do not understand
why you question me thus, but I will answer just the same. I do like you
very much, and you have always seemed to me much like an equal. I could
hardly do without you now."
"And Willie? If I should die, or anything happen to me, would you care
for Willie?"
There was something very earnest in Adah's tone as she pleaded for her
boy, and had Anna been at all suspicious, she must have guessed there
was something wrong. As it was, she merely thought Adah tired and
nervous. She had been thinking, perhaps, of the deserted, and she
smoothed her hair pityingly as she replied: "Of course I'd care for
Willie. He has won a large place in my heart."
"Bless you for that. It has made me very happy," Adah whispered, arising
to her feet and adding: "You may think me bold, but I must kiss you
once--only once--for it will be pleasant to remember that I kissed Anna
Richards."
There was nothing cringing or even pleading in the tone. Adah seemed to
ask it as her right, and ere Anna could answer she had pressed one
burning kiss upon the smooth, white forehead which a menial's lips had
never touched before, and was gone from the room.
"Was she crazy, or what was it that ailed her?" Anna asked herself,
wondering more and more, the more she thought of the strange conduct,
and lying awake long after the usual hour for sleep.
But wakeful as she was, there was one who kept the vigils with her,
knowing exactly when she fell away at last into a slumber all the
deeper for the restlessness which had preceded it. Anna slept very
soundly as Adah knew she would, and when toward morning a light footstep
glided across her threshold she did not hear it. The bolt was drawn, the
key was turned, and just as the clock struck three, Adah stood outside
the yard, leaning on the gate and gazing back at the huge building
looming up so dark and grand beneath the starry sky. One more prayer for
Willie and the mother-auntie to whose care she had left him, one more
straining glance at the window of the little room where he lay sleeping,
and she resolutely turned away, nor stopped again until the Danville
depot was reached the station where in less than five minutes after her
arrival the night express stood for an instant, and then went thundering
on, bearing with it another passenger, bound for--she knew not, cared
not whither.