“Yes.”
“It is rather an uncommon kind of pet,” put in Miss Crokerly; “and how brilliant! Is it real, or some highly-polished stone?”
Rosalie laughed softly.
“Oh! it is real enough, and can jump prodigiously.” And she put her hand up caressingly to its coat.
“And you,” said Sir John—“you look tired. What part of the country have you come from to get lost in the city?”
“I have been walking all day. I came from a little hut and plantation beyond the forest.”
At this the painter looked at his sister and she at him. For outside this city of Lucifram there was a tremendous forest full of jungles, and only the pure in spirit and those led by a light of superhuman brightness could pass through it.
“And did you pass through the forest unhurt?” he asked.
“Yes. We were pleasant company to each other. But I lost one of my garden clogs. I think that was very unfortunate, because I never missed it till it was too late to turn back.”
She spoke evidently without any knowledge of the terrors of the forest. But whatever reticence she showed about her journey was from now respected by them.