Mrs. Nimmo could afford to be magnanimous, as they were so soon to go away, and might possibly shake off all connection with this place. Therefore she favored the pale and suffering Rose with a compassionate glance, and extended an inviting hand to the impetuous boy, who, however, disdained it and ran to Vesper.
"But why are they going?" cried Agapit, hurrying up to Rose, as she stood gazing after the retreating Nimmos. "Did you tell them of the fireworks, and the concert, and the French play; also that there would be a moon to return by?"
"Madame was weary."
"Come thou then with me. I enjoy myself so much. My shirt is wet on my back from the dancing. It is hot like a hay field—what, thou wilt not? Rose, why art thou so dull to-day?"
She tried to compose herself, to banish the heartrending look of sorrow from her face, but she was not skilled in the art of concealing her emotions, and the effort was a vain one.
"Rose!" said her cousin, in sudden dismay. "Rose—Rose!"
"What is the matter with thee?" she asked, alarmed in her turn by his strange agitation.
"Hush,—walk aside with me. Now tell me, what is this?"
"Narcisse has been a trouble," began Rose, hurriedly; then she calmed herself. "I will not deceive thee,—it is not Narcisse, though he has worried me. Agapit, I wish to go home."
"I will send thee; but be quiet, speak not above thy breath. Tell me, has this Englishman—"