“I don’t want any wine,” said Aimée. “After a while—when my heart stops beating so dreadfully—I will tell you—all about it.”
“Yes,” said Fanny, eagerly, “but at least you can tell me this now—did you see him?”
Aimée nodded, being for the moment past speech; and Miss Berrien at once locked the door, as if she feared Mr. Kyrle might be on the other side. Then she watched Aimée anxiously, and when the latter presently opened her lips as if to speak, interposed with a warning whisper:
“No, no—not here. We must go upstairs. Are you able to walk?”
“Oh, yes—why not?” answered Aimée. “I was out of breath when I came in; that was all.”
“You looked as if you were about to faint,” said Fanny, taking up her lamp. “How thankful I am that it is over, and that you are safely back!”
Aimée might have assured the speaker that her thankfulness on this point was trifling compared to her own, but the action of her heart not being yet sufficiently regulated to make speech easy, she silently followed Miss Berrien’s stealthy footsteps upstairs.
Once safely in their own room, Fanny was full of eager questioning.
“You saw him!” she exclaimed. “Did you give him my message? How did he take it? What did he say?”