Stooping, she kissed the little fellow upon the forehead and the eyes, and his two hands came up and clasped both her cheeks.
“Tu m’aimes, maman?” the child asked. She had taught him the pretty question.
“Comme la vie, comme la vie!” she answered with a half sob, and caught up the little one to her bosom. Now she looked towards the window. Ranulph followed her look, and saw that the shades of night were falling.
“I have far to walk,” he said; “I must be going.” As he held out his hand to Guida the child leaned over and touched him on the shoulder. “What is your name, man?” he asked.
He smiled, and, taking the warm little hand in his own, he said: “My name is Ranulph, little gentleman. Ranulph’s my name, but you shall call me Ro.”
“Good-night, Ro, man,” the child answered with a mischievous smile.
The scene brought up another such scene in Guida’s life so many years ago. Instinctively she drew back with the child, a look of pain crossing her face. But Ranulph did not see; he was going. At the doorway he turned and said:
“You know you can trust me. Good-bye.”