“There she is,” he said, as the case opened; and he looked up with a smile.
The Earl knitted his brows; he did not wish to see the picture, but he looked at it in spite of himself; and there looked up at him from it such a pretty young face—a face so like the child’s at his side—that it quite startled him.
“I suppose you think you are very fond of her?” he said.
“Yes,” answered Lord Fauntleroy, in a gentle tone, and with simple directness; “I do think so, and I think it’s true. You see Mr. Hobbs was my friend, and Dick and Bridget and Michael they were my friends too; but Dearest—well she is my [close] friend, and we always tell each other everything.”
His young lordship slipped down upon the hearth-rug, and sat there with the picture still in his hand.
The Earl did not speak again. He leaned back in his chair and watched him. A great many strange new thoughts passed through the old nobleman’s mind. Dougal had stretched himself out and gone to sleep with his head on his huge paws. There was a long silence.
In about half an hour’s time Mr. Havisham was ushered in. The great room was very still when he entered. The Earl was still leaning back in his chair. He moved as Mr. Havisham approached, and held up his hand in a gesture of warning—it seemed as if he had scarcely intended to make the gesture—as if it were almost involuntary. Dougal was still asleep, and close beside the great dog, sleeping also, with his curly head upon his arm, lay little Lord Fauntleroy.
CHAPTER VI.
THE EARL AND HIS GRANDSON.
When Lord Fauntleroy wakened in the morning—he had not wakened at all when he had been carried to bed the night before,—the first sound he was conscious of were the crackling of a wood fire and the murmur of voices.
He moved on his pillow, and turned over, opening his eyes.