Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
Jane hesitated. She saw that her chances of an interview with Mrs.
Judson were very small, but still the temptation to see more of the
house had its force.
“Oh, don’t let me drive your friend away!” said the girl they called
Maria, settling her apron with great nicety. “I would not have spoken
for the world if I had dreamed of such a thing.”
“I am not going away, thank you,” answered Jane, with a fling of the
head which delighted her friend. “Ellen wants me to go up-stairs with
her, and I’m agoing.”
Now, the girl Maria did not care a fig where either Ellen or her friend
went, so long as they left the servants’ parlor to her and Mr. Simpson,
who had with his own white-gloved hands put away some dainties for this
special occasion. These dainties the two had no idea of sharing with any
one, much less had Maria the least intention of giving a portion of Mr.
Simpson’s society to either of the two females whom, much to her
disgust, she had found in occupation when she came into the parlor.
“Dear me, I’m so afraid I’ve disturbed you! hadn’t the least intention
of doing it; perhaps I had better go up-stairs again.”
Here Maria seated herself in a rocking-chair, shook out her dress, made
herself generally comfortable, and concealed a yawn behind her hand.
“That’s just like her,” said Ellen, as she went up-stairs with her
guest. “She thinks there is nobody on earth but herself; just as if Mr.
Simpson ever asked her; she don’t wait for that, let me tell you.”
“I should like to have her for a patient, that’s all,” said Jane Kelly,
giving her hand a fierce grip. “Wouldn’t I let her beg for drink? Oh,
no!”
“Hush!” whispered Ellen; “we are close by the dressing-room—some one may
be there.”
Jane became silent on the instant, and walking almost on tiptoe,
followed her friend along the upper hall.
CHAPTER XII.
THE CONFERENCE IN MRS. JUDSON’S CHAMBER.
Ellen opened a door at the upper end of the hall, and Jane Kelly found
herself in a spacious chamber, brilliantly lighted, with a broad, tall
mirror rising from floor to ceiling, and a Psyche glass swinging between
gilded supporters, in which she saw herself from head to foot.
Several easy-chairs, shrouded in white linen, stood about the room, and
a bed, canopied with lace and crimson satin, was laden down with loose
garments, which betokened the presence of ladies enough for a large
dinner-party.
On the dressing-table, toilet articles lay about as if but recently
used. Combs and ivory-handled brushes, carved into richness, were
scattered over the white marble, and on a table close by, an elaborate
dressing-case stood open with all its crystal flasks and cases exposed,
glittering with gold, and, in some instances, surmounted with exquisite
cameos that might have befitted a lady’s necklace.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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