Maurice drew her toward him, "Laura," he asked, "are you ready to come home?"
"Now?" said the child, "at once?"
"You want to go back to mamma, Laura?" he said gravely.
The child stood silent, trembling from head to foot. She was afraid to show what she felt before her father.
"Come," said Maurice, "we must thank your friend who has been so kind to you, and say good-bye to him."
Laura looked at L'Estrange. The proud face was turned to the wall. Weak as he was, he would yet show nothing before Maurice Grey. She went close up to his side. He motioned her away from him, and the heart of the little child could bear no longer. "Mon père will die if I go away," she cried piteously. She covered her face with her hands and began to cry. It was difficult for Maurice to know what to do. The child's tears made him feel perfectly helpless. He was not accustomed to little ones, and he felt inclined not only to wonder, but to feel rather angry, at the strange power this man, her mother's bitterest enemy, had gained over the child's mind.
He answered her with a man's impatience. Like others, he forgot for the moment, in her strange womanliness, that Laura was only a little child. "My dear Laura," he said sternly, "I must have no more of this. Leave off crying at once, and do as I tell you. Say good-bye to Mr. L'Estrange, find your cloak and hat and come with me. I have told the maid to put your things together, and a sledge is waiting at the door."
Her father's voice checked the child so suddenly that the moment he had spoken he reproached himself for having spoken too strongly.
She left off crying at once, looked up with a pale, resolute face, and went into her own room to get ready for the journey. Then, when the scarlet cloak and hood had been put on by the sympathetic Gretchen, Laura returned and stood once more beside her friend.