“I’m only helping Rose to change the water of her hyacinths,” said Colonel Keith, withdrawing his eyes and attention to the accommodation of the forest of white roots within the purple glass.
“I did not know you were out to-day,” said Lady Temple, recovering herself a little.
“Yes, I came to claim my walking companion. Where’s your hat, Rosie?”
And as the child, who was already equipped all but the little brown hat, stood by her aunt for the few last touches to the throat of her jacket, he leant down and murmured, “I thought he was safe out riding.”
“Oh no, no, it is not that,” hastily answered Lady Temple, a fresh suffusion of crimson colour rustling over her face, and inspiring an amount of curiosity that rendered a considerable effort of attention necessary to be as supremely charming a companion as Rose generally found him in the walks that he made it his business to take with her.
He turned about long before Rose thought they had gone far enough, and when he re-entered the parlour there was such an expectant look on his face that Ermine’s bright eyes glittered with merry mischief, when she sent Rose to take off her walking dress. “Well!” he said.
“Well? Colin, have you so low an opinion of the dignity of your charge as to expect her to pour out her secrets to the first ear in her way?”
“Oh, if she has told you in confidence.”
“No, she has not told me in confidence; she knew better.”
“She has told you nothing?”