There had been a pause in their talk, when the earl gently closed his fingers over hers, and said:
“My little one, I love you very much.”
“Oh, I hope you do, and it is so kind of you!” warmly answered the child, returning the pressure of his hand and acting toward him as she would have acted toward her uncle.
“Then, you do care for me a little?” he said.
“Oh, yes, indeed, I care for you a great deal. I am very fond of you,” said Rosemary, warmly, squeezing his fingers.
“How old are you, Rosemary?” he gravely inquired.
“I shall soon be seventeen.”
“Indeed!” he exclaimed, turning and looking down on her.
“Yes, indeed!” she answered, positively.
“Well, you are such a quaint, little old lady, that I am not surprised, after all. You might have been fifteen, or you might have been twenty. But seventeen! That is a sweet age—the age at which the Princess Royal of England was married!”