XXII.

It was six o'clock in the morning before Miss Milray sent Clementina home
in her carriage. She would have kept her to breakfast, but Clementina
said she ought to go on Mrs. Lander's account, and she wished to go on
her own.

She thought she would steal to bed without waking her, but she was
stopped by the sound of groans when she entered their apartment; the
light gushed from Mrs. Lander's door. Maddalena came out, and blessed the
name of her Latin deity (so much more familiar and approachable than the
Anglo-Saxon divinity) that Clementina had come at last, and poured upon
her the story of a night of suffering for Mrs. Lander. Through her story
came the sound of Mrs. Lander's voice plaintively reproachful, summoning
Clementina to her bedside. "Oh, how could you go away and leave me? I've
been in such misery the whole night long, and the docta didn't do a thing
for me. I'm puffectly wohn out, and I couldn't make my wants known with
that Italian crazy-head. If it hadn't been for the portyary comin' in and
interpretin', when the docta left, I don't know what I should have done.
I want you should give him a twenty-leary note just as quick as you see
him; and oh, isn't the docta comin'?"

Clementina set about helping Maddalena put the room, which was in an
impassioned disorder, to rights; and she made Mrs. Lander a cup of her
own tea, which she had brought from S. S. Pierces in passing through
Boston; it was the first thing, the sufferer said, that had saved her
life. Clementina comforted her, and promised her that the doctor should
be there very soon; and before Mrs. Lander fell away to sleep, she was so