Volume Three—Chapter Nineteen.
Diogenes Discovers.
“Blame you, my dear? No, no, of course not. Then you knew nothing about it till that night when he came to the window?”
“Oh no, uncle dear.”
Louise started up excitedly from the couch at the hotel upon which she was lying, while the old man trotted up and down the room.
“Now, now, now,” he cried piteously, but with exceeding tenderness, as he laid his hand upon her brow, and pressed her back till her head rested on the pillow. “Your head’s getting hot again, and the doctor said you were not to be excited in any way. There, let’s talk about fishing, or sea-anemones, or something else.”
“No, no, uncle dear, I must talk about this, or I shall be worse.”
“Then for goodness’ sake let’s talk about it,” he said eagerly, as he took a chair by her side and held her hand.
“You don’t blame me then—very much.”
“Well, say not very much; but it’s not very pleasant to have a nephew who makes one believe he’s dead, and a niece who pretends that she has bolted with a scampish Frenchman.”