"I am not
'Miss Bess'!"
He came close to me and stared into my face. And from that he looked
at my cloth gloves, at my coat, and he shook his white head. "I sure
thought you was Miss Bess," he said, and made no further effort to
detain me. He led the way back to the door where the machine waited,
his head shaking with the palsy of age, muttering as he went. He
opened the door with his best manner, and stood aside.
"Good night, ma'am," he quavered.
I had tears in my eyes. I tried to keep them back. "Good night," I
said. "Good night, _Ikkie_."
It had slipped out, my baby name for old Isaac!
"Miss Bess!" he cried. "Oh, praise Gawd, it's Miss Bess again!"
He caught my arm and pulled me back into the hall, and there he held
me, crying over me, muttering praises for my return, begging me to
come back, recalling little tender things out of the past that almost
killed me to hear again.
But I had made my bed and must lie in it. I forced him to swear
silence about my visit; I made him promise not to reveal my identity
to Lida; and I told him--Heaven forgive me!--that I was well and
prosperous and happy.
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