“Must you go? Sit by me for a little while,” said her old friend.
The door closed softly, shutting out the priest, as she believed, and Frederica sat down at the old man’s feet again.
“Does the time seem long, Cousin Cyprien?” asked she.
“It seemed long in passing, but to look back on, it seems like a blank. I must get strong again. Is your father dead too?”
“Papa! Oh, no! He was better when we heard last, but it is a long time now. You have not heard that papa is worse?”
“I have heard nothing, and I can do nothing. Why have you come to-day? Is it because of some new unhappiness? Madame Ascot is with you, I hear. Are you unhappy, my child?”
Frederica paused a moment before she answered.
“Mama is gone, and papa, and sometimes we are afraid. But I did not come because of Madame. I thought that you had forgotten us, and I came to see. I am not afraid now that you are getting well.”
“Ah! we will trust so. And have you nothing to tell me?—no trouble to be helped through?”
“No,” said Frederica thoughtfully. “I will wait till you are quite well again, and then I will tell you all. And will you tell Babette that we may come upstairs—Selina and I? I may bring Selina, may I not?”