He would dearly have loved to know, true; but, above all, he would dearly have loved to help.
"Eh, Dieu sait," he sighed, as the fly jingled and bumbled over the grass-grown avenue, "Dieu sait ce qui va se passer là-bas, maintenant que je n'y suis plus!"
He gave a lingering look at the twisted chimney-stacks against the pale sky, before setting his face for Paris, Ville Lumière, once more.
* * * * *
"She must not be hurried!—Until she asks for me; then," had resolved Harry English, "I will wait."
And at first, indeed, it seemed as if the waiting could not be hard. For with the young year had come new hopes to the Old Ancient House. And with Rosamond turning to life in her room upstairs under the gables, he who loved her could well afford to sit with patience below.
Yet time went by, and the summons came not.
Upon that first blessed morning, indeed, when after all these long days she had awakened at last, and looked upon the world with seeing eyes once more, Rosamond had whispered to Aspasia:
"Harry—is he here?"
The girl's heart had leaped with joy.