'Rowland, is it you? Not—not—' muttered Netta, as she strove to rise. 'I think you had better go. Perhaps, when he comes, he won't like—oh, my heart.'
'Be calm, dear Netta; I will do nothing you dislike. If Howel comes back I will go away directly. I will be most careful of what I say. You need not fear me, Netta,—your brother who loves you so dearly'
'You won't go away again, uncle, will you?' said the pale, little Minette, climbing on Rowland's knee and nestling her head in his bosom; 'or will you take mamma and me away from this nasty place?'
'No, dear, Uncle Rowland will not leave you, he is so very glad to find you.'
Tears, actual tears, filled Rowland's eyes as he kissed the brow of the child, who was soon fast asleep in his arms, and as he held Netta's thin hand and looked at her bewildered face.
'Did you say you loved me, Rowland?' asked Netta, looking at him with a strange, wandering glance, whilst large tears rolled down her cheeks. 'I don't think I deserve any one's love, do I? Is mother vexed that I have been away so long?'
'Yes, dear, and you must come home at once. You must come to me first to get strong, and then—'
'Hush! hush! No, I cannot leave this house,—I will not; never, never till Howel comes or sends for me. Isn't that some one on the stairs?'
'I will see, dear.'
'No, not you,—not you.'