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forehead.
    â€œSarah, are you all right? ” Marisa’s face loomed largely in front of Sarah’s vision. “Sarah? ”
    â€œI am certain that I am all right,” said Sarah. “ ’Tis only that I feel suddenly very ill. Would you excuse me that I might go to my bed? ”
    â€œOf course, but, Sarah, there is more that I—”
    â€œWould you like to accompany me to my own room, then, where we might speak of this some more? ”
    â€œOf course. I am sorry that you do not feel well.”
    â€œIt is nothing; nevertheless, let us retire to my own quarters where, God willing, if you are interested, I will tell you a story of my own.”
    Marisa frowned. “You have a tale that you have never said to me? ”
    â€œAye,” said Sarah.
    â€œBut I thought we shared everything.”
    â€œAnd so we do . . . mostly. But it has seemed so unnecessary to relate this tale to you, for it is not a pleasant one. But perhaps I have been wrong to withhold it from you all these years.” Another wave of nausea shook her physically; beads of perspiration formed above her lip. “Excuse me, dear Marisa, but I fear I must obtain my own quarters at once, for I suddenly feel worse than I did only a few moments ago.”
    â€œYes,” said Marisa. “Yes. By all means, let us go there at once.”
    Sarah arose to stand by the bed, but Marisa remained seated, and she said, “Has this story of yours anything to do with my step-uncle? ”
    â€œIt does, for you know, I am here in servitude to your uncle—”
    â€œHe is my step-uncle. And you were saying? . . .”
    â€œThe things that you have said to me are troubling—”
    â€œI am sorry.”
    â€œDon’t be. ’Tis only that this tale of yours is very similar to one that I know all too well. The only reason I am here in your step-uncle’s employ is because my parents were indebted to him, and they perished in a fire, leaving only myself to recompense the debt.”
    â€œNo! Sarah!”
    â€œ ’Tis true.”
    â€œBut this is incredible. Then it would appear that my step-uncle has done this before? ”
    â€œExcuse me.” Sarah jumped away from the bed, and fled across the room, arriving at the chamber pot with barely enough time to empty the contents of her stomach into it.
    â€œOh, Sarah, I am so sorry, I should not have bared my soul to you and told you what I have.”
    â€œYou most definitely should have,” said Sarah as soon as she was able. Straightening up, she wiped her mouth upon her apron before rising up to her feet. “ ’Tis only that—”
    Just as quickly as she had stood up, she flopped down again, turning back toward the chamber pot as another bout of nausea swept over her. Again, she heaved, and the rest of what had been in her stomach took leave of her.
    Glancing up toward Marisa, Sarah noted that Marisa looked truly alarmed. “Sarah,” said Marisa. “Come with me. I will escort you to your room, where I shall insist that you remain for the rest of the day.”
    â€œNo,” Sarah protested, “there is too much work to do.”
    â€œI will hear no more about it. You are too sick to attend to your duties today.”
    Sarah sighed. “A few hours of sleep might help me, perhaps.”
    â€œI shall insist that you take the rest of the day for yourself.”
    Sarah shrugged. “We shall see,” she said. “At present, however, I do believe that I should like very much to take to my bed.”
    â€œThen come with me. I will escort you. Was my step-uncle cruel to you?” asked Marisa, as she took Sarah’s hand into her own.
    Sarah was reluctant to say anything.
    â€œSarah, was he cruel to you? ”
    â€œIt was all so long ago, that . . .”
    â€œHe was, wasn’t he? ”
    Sarah didn’t reply, her silence making her answer evident.
    In due time, however, Sarah