Rose went up to the bedside, and dropped upon her knees, looking up so that the light could strike her face. It was a wretched face, but she tried to keep it calm lest it should plead for her.
"My father is going to take me away," she began. "I must pack to-night. But I want to tell you—"
"Take you away? where?" asked grannie.
"To France."
"Why, I don't like that!"
Rose continued,—
"I am not a good woman. My father has told me so. He has shown me. I believe it."
"I guess you're tired," said grannie. She laid a motherly hand on the girl's forehead. Then she smoothed her hair, and tucked a lock behind her ear. "I guess I wouldn't say such things."
"I was never married to Tom Fulton. I thought it was right not to be. But I came here and called myself his wife. I am an adventuress. My father says so."
The old lady sat looking at her with a puzzled glance.