Borne into alien lands and far away.
—Tennyson.
Thus it was that this day, after maman had cleared the debris of dinner, and papa went downstairs to set the 'prentices to their afternoon's work, that no sooner had Rose Marie sat down to her harpsichord and begun to sing:
"La nuit écoute et se penche sur l'onde
Pour y cueillir rien qu'un souffle d'amour,"
then maman gave a slight cry of surprise, and jumped to her feet exclaiming:
"Oh, mon Dieu! I had forgot the pot-au-feu—it must be boiling over," and incontinently ran out of the room.
Rose Marie continued her song. She was sitting with her back to the light, and my lord straight in front of her: and as her young voice rose and fell to the simple cadence of the old song, she was able to throw many a veiled look in his direction.
At first when maman ran away, he had made a movement as if he would follow her, then seeing that Rose Marie remained at the harpsichord, he seemed to think that mayhap courtesy compelled him to remain with her. He sat down again in the high-backed arm chair and rested his head in his hand. Every time that Rose Marie looked up she caught his deep-set eyes fixed upon her. Strangely enough the look in them seemed quite sad—indeed if it were possible in one so rich and in so high-born a gentleman—Rose Marie would almost have imagined that my lord's whole attitude was one which made appeal to her tenderness and even to her pity.
Then when the last note of her song died away in a soft murmur, my lord rose and came up to her.