“Oh! would you, Miss Crokerly? I can imagine nothing more galling to them than to be watched by strangers.”
“But is it such an infliction to them?” asked that lady, turning to Mr. Barringcourt.
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said he. “I hardly think so. I think myself it would be better if they had more visitors from the outside world. Lady Flamington is the only lady I have ever taken over the premises.”
“I had just left there,” said the Golden Priest, “before I met you to-day. I hear she caught a severe chill last night, and is confined to her room.”
“Indeed,” said Miss Crokerly; and Mr. Barringcourt and Rosalie looked at each other, from no apparent motive.
When tea was over the two gentlemen rose to go.
“I think,” said Mr. Barringcourt, in a lower voice, to Rosalie, as the others were speaking of a special fern which both were rearing—“I think it would not be a bad plan for you to go over the Home with Miss Crokerly. The matron will willingly take you over, and you’ll find there are worse things in the world than being deaf and dumb, or even blind.”
Then somehow or other they looked at each other, the first time really since the Saturday night. How long ago it seemed now! And each was very curious about the other evidently, for Rosalie’s eyes searched his, and his eyes hers, but what conclusion either came to it would be hard to say.
And then she shook hands with the Golden Priest, and the door closed.
“Do you think,” said Miss Crokerly, “that Mr. Barringcourt told the Golden Priest your opinion of him, and brought him here to-day in consequence?”