“What could this mean? What on earth had happened?”
She took up the candle, for it was lying burning and guttering on the stairs; scraped up the grease with the snuffers, and by force of habit tried to polish it clean with a bit of paper that shook between her fingers; she did not know what she was doing. When she recovered her wits, she took the child out of the cradle, and wrapped it carefully in her shawl; then went slowly down the stairs; and holding him close to her bosom, with a furtive eye, and brain confused, and a heart like lead, stole away to the tenantless cottage, where Madame Jouvenel awaited her.
Meantime, Rose, with quaking heart, had encountered the baroness. She found her pale and agitated, and her first question was, “What is the matter? what have you been all doing over my head?”
“Darling mother,” replied Rose, evasively, “something has happened that will rejoice your heart. Somebody has come home.”
“My son? eh, no! impossible! We cannot be so happy.”
“He will be with you directly.”
The old lady now trembled with joyful agitation.
“In five minutes I will bring him to you. Shall you be dressed? I will ring for the girl to help you.”
“But, Rose, the scream, and that terrible fall. Ah! where is Josephine?”
“Can’t you guess, mamma? Oh, the fall was only the screen; they stumbled over it in the dark.”