Madame Jozain hobbled off for a glass of water and a bottle of ammonia, which she kept for her laces; then, with gentle, deft hands, she removed the bonnet and heavy veil, and bathed the poor woman’s hot forehead and burning hands, while the child clung to her mother murmuring, “Mama, dear mama, does your head ache now?”
“I’m better now, darling,” the mother replied after a few moments; then turning to madame, she said in her sweet, soft tones, “Thank you so much. I feel quite refreshed. The heat and fatigue exhausted my strength. I should have fallen in the street had it not been for you.”
“Have you traveled far?” asked madame, gently sympathetic.
“From San Antonio, and I was ill when I started”; and again she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the chair.
At the first glance, madame understood the situation. She saw from the appearance of mother and child, that they were not poor. In this accidental encounter was a possible opportunity, but how far she could use it she could not yet determine; so she said only, “That’s a long way to come alone”; then she added, in a casual tone, “especially when one’s ill.”
The lady did not reply, and madame went on tentatively, “Perhaps some one’s waiting for you on the other side, and’ll come back on the ferry to see what’s become of you.”
“No. No one expects me; I’m on my way to New York. I have a friend living on Jackson Street. I thought I would go there and rest a day or so; but I did wrong to get off the train here. I was not able to walk to the ferry. I should have gone on to the lower station, and saved myself the exertion of walking.”
“Well, don’t mind now, dear,” returned madame, soothingly. “Just rest a little, and when it’s time for the boat to be back, I’ll go on down to the ferry with you. It’s only a few steps, and I can hobble that far. I’ll see you safe on board, and when you get across, you’ll find a carriage.”
“Thank you, you’re very good. I should like to get there as soon as possible, for I feel dreadfully ill,” and again the weary eyes closed, and the heavy head fell back against its resting-place.
Madame Jozain looked at her for a moment, seriously and silently; then she turned, smiling sweetly on the child. “Come here, my dear, and let me take off your hat and cool your head while you’re waiting.”