Nor had the Colonel any anxieties in leaving the representatives of the three nations together while he went to attend his brother’s wedding. He proposed that Tibbie should conduct Rose for the daily walk of which he had made a great point, thinking that the child did not get exercise enough, since she was so averse to going alone upon the esplanade that her aunt forbore to press it. She manifested the same reluctance to going out with Tibbie, and this the Colonel ascribed to her fancying herself too old to be under the charge of a nurse. It was trying to laugh her out of her dignity, but without eliciting an answer, when, one afternoon just as they were entering together upon the esplanade, he felt her hand tighten upon his own with a nervous frightened clutch, as she pressed tremulously to his side.
“What is it, my dear? That dog is not barking at you. He only wants to have a stick thrown into the sea for him.”
“Oh not the dog! It was—”
“Was, what?”
“HIM!” gasped Rose.
“Who?” inquired the Colonel, far from prepared for the reply, in a terrified whisper,—
“Mr. Maddox.”
“My dear child! Which, where?”
“He is gone! he is past. Oh, don’t turn back! Don’t let me see him again.”
“You don’t suppose he could hurt you, my dear.”