He felt then he had not lied quite so cleverly as usual, but he got out of it by saying,—
‘The brute has probably taken a circuit of five miles, in order to attend to his own business. You know what these niggers are, Liz. However, give me the last news of Miss Courtney, and I will see it is delivered.’
Liz’s face grew very grave.
‘She is better, Henri. I have not seen her this morning, but my father tells me so, and that in a few days she will be quite well. I have just been making her some fish soup.’
‘Was she very bad with the fever?’ he asked.
‘Very bad indeed. It is lucky I met her wandering about the plantation, or I don’t know what might have happened. But there is no need for anxiety now. All danger is at an end.’
‘Were you with her in her delirium? Did she—did she—rave much? I only ask for curiosity. I have heard that some of the negroes tried to destroy themselves during the fever; and her parents are very anxious still.’
‘Are they?’ said Liz carelessly. ‘I thought my father had set their minds entirely at rest. As I said before, there is no occasion for it. Quita is quite sensible now, and only needs to regain her strength.’
Henri de Courcelles looked much relieved. He drew a long breath, and straightened himself against the supports of the verandah. Liz regarded him for a moment, and then said, in a low voice,—
‘I want to tell you something, Henri. I have been thinking over what I mentioned to you yesterday, and I feel I did you an injustice. I can’t tell you how the conviction has been forced upon me—but it is there. Will you forgive me for my causeless jealousy? I have no excuse to offer for myself, excepting that I love you, and I fear to lose you.’