From Caen to Rotterdam, Chapter V [pp. 105-113]

FROM CAEN TO ROTTERDAM.
Gillome did not feel satisfied with the
answer. Long scrutiny on the part of
Madame Paris had convinced her that
Phlillis's eyes were at length open to the
swift-coming danger.
The gentle mistress of this household
knewv herself to be passionately beloved
by this faithful domestic; so she waited
until an hour, on the ensuing morning,
when Phillis usually came to her apartment to receive orders for the day, to
speak of that which lay so near her heart.
Until very lately, Madame Paris had
been the first on foot of all the house;
when, descending to the kitchen, she
would spend a busy half-hour in an oversight as to the state of the larder and domestic management in general. Now,
such inspection had no place for any
hour in the day. All that activity had
passed away, and the peaceful invalid
remained late within her upper room,
Phillis carrying up her breakfast, which
the mistress barely tasted as she still
rested on her bed.
The tireless waiting-maid came softly
forward on this calm morning, placed
the small tray on the table by the side
of her mistress, and was about turning
away, when Gillome stretched out her
hand and grasped that of the servingwoman, drawing her toward the couch.
"My dear friend, thou knowest how it
is with me,-thou comprehendest it all?"
said she, in a low whisper, looking at the
same time steadily in the face of her
humble friend.
Phillis averted her head, but answered,
in broken, sobbing voice:
"Yes, yes; only too well. Do n'tdo n't speak any more, dear lady!"
"But, Phillis, true, faithful friend and
sister, I can and must open my heart to you
now. Soon it will be too late. It is you
who must now care for thy master and
the children. Say that thou wilt never
leave or forsake them, never cease thy
watch over them, by going to live elsewhere. Promise me, old friend!"
Phillis laid hold of the tongs and
poker, as if the fire required all her attention, brightening up the smoldering
coals in the grate; but not a word escaped her lips,-only a kind of suppressed moan.
"Thou dost not speak to me, Phillis,
my woman; and yet thou knowest what
a blessed comfort it is to be able to tell
thee all. Ah, how it relieves my heart
of its keenest anxiety!"
"Take me with you! 0, take me with
you!" wvas now the agonized cry of the
devoted servant, just as she had said to
her mistress in the old days, when Gillome explained to her their project of
leaving Normandy.
The Madame smiled faintly as the almost frantic wvords of Phillis fell on her
ear, and she murmured, in softest tone:
"In the place where I so soon am
going, dear friend, God alone commands
the voyagers!"
And then the distressed maid went
out from the presence of her dying mistress. She had promised nothing,-she
had not even made response to the overflow of heart-confidence poured into her
ear by the cherished invalid; but the
untiring watch of protection that she
kept over the children, the redoubled
care she threw around the father, anticipating his every need, were assurances
stronger than speech, to Madame Paris,
of the full confidence she might place in
the fidelity of her old domestic.
"What her two strong hands can do,
I know will be done; and as for the
rest, that belongs to our good Lord,"
Gillome often repeated to herself.
The family in the small dwelling now
styled by all the refugees "Rose-bower,"
were at breakfast, a few mornings after
the interview between mistress and maid
in the sick chamber of Madame Paris,
Martha about to serve out the tea to her
aunts,-this beverage, so popular in Caen
with them, had rather increased in favor,
and always made part of the more valuablle gifts sent to their friends in France,
its importation to Holland being a much
larger traffic than in Normandy,- when
Phillis rushed, at this early liour, into
the dwelling, without apology, and almost w^ithotut breath.
1876.]
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