"This. And Wanamee will have the room between, to be within call."
His cheek flushed. How was he to get his secret told?
"And this will be yours, M'sieu. I know it on account of the books. And I can come in here and you shall teach me to read some of the new things. I have been very naughty and lazy, have I not. But in the winter one cannot roam about. Oh, how delightful it will be!"
She looked up out of such clear, happy eyes. How could he destroy her delight—he knew it would.
"There will be some one else here," he began.
"Not Père Jamay. He is with Madame a good deal. I do not like his sour face when he frowns upon me. And—oh, you will not have me sent to France and put in a convent. I would kill myself first."
"No, no. It is not the priest. I am not over in love with him myself. It is some one sweet and pretty, and that you love——"
"That I love"—wonderingly.
He took both her hands in his.
"Rose," with tender gravity, "I am going to marry Madame Giffard."