Crossing to the table where her bird’s cage was standing, she completely removed the cover, now displaying a pink and grey ball of feathers upon the perch, her action having been so gentle that the bird’s rest was not disturbed.
“Poor little prisoner!” she said gently. “There, you may wake up to-morrow morning and pipe and sing in the bright sunshine, for we can bear it now—thank God! we can bear it now.”
Volume Three—Chapter Eight.
The Discovery.
Madelaine rose as the brothers entered the room, and before coming to the bed, where Van Heldre lay rapidly mending now, George Vine took the girl’s hands, looked down in her pale face, which sorrow seemed to have refined, and bent down and kissed her.
“How are you, Maddy?” said Luke Vine, gruffly; and he was going on to the bed, but Madelaine laid her hand upon his shoulder, leant towards him, and kissed him.
“Hah! yes, forgot,” he said, brushing her forehead roughly with his grey beard; and then, yielding to a sudden impulse, kissing the girl tenderly. “How I do hate girls!” he muttered to himself, as he went straight to the window and stood there for a few moments.
“Poor lad!” he said to himself. “Yes, hopeless, or a girl like that would have redeemed him.”