“Yes, yes,” answered the old woman, sharply, and looking around the room as if she feared there might be something that required concealment. “Yes, in a minute. Wait while I find the key.”
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE YOUNG MAN’S RETURN.
Directly Madame De Marke unlocked the door, and a tall young man of stately presence and a grave cast of countenance entered. He reached forth his hand, with a sort of painful reservation, toward the singular old creature whom he found there.
“So, it is you at last!” said the latter, in a soft, cajoling voice. “I began to think you had forgotten your poor old mother.”
“Forgotten you! No, no, that were impossible,” was the hasty reply. “But you are alone, you seem to be living quite alone. Where is Catharine?”
“Catharine? Oh, yes, the girl. She hasn’t been here this year or more. A hard case that, George.”
He started, and looked at her sternly.
“What do you mean, madame?” he said. “Where, I say, where is Catharine? I left her with you! I demand her of you again.”
“You left her with me, of course you did. Wasn’t she my own help, bound to me till she was eighteen by the city authorities? Of course you left her here, why not?”
The young man grew pale, and his eyes darkened with intense anxiety; but he restrained his impetuous feelings, and spoke in a voice so low, that it was almost a whisper.