Agapit dragged at his mustache with restless fingers.
"You are laughing at me, you find me amusing," she said, with a sharp look at him. "I assure you I don't mind being laughed at. I hate dull people—oh, I must ask you if you know that I am quite Acadien now?"
"Rose has told me something of it."
"Yes, I know. She says that you read my letters, and I think it is perfectly sweet in you. I know what you have done for me. I know, you need not try to conceal it. It was you that urged Mr. Nimmo not to give me up, it is to you that I am indebted for my glimpse of the world. I assure you I am grateful. That is why I speak so freely to you. You are a friend and also a relative. May we not call ourselves cousins?"
"Certainly, mademoiselle,—I am honored," said Agapit, in a stumbling voice.
"You are not used to me yet. I overcome you, but wait a little, you will not mind my peculiarities, and let me tell you that if there is anything I can do for you, I shall be so glad. I could copy papers or write letters. I am only a mouse and you are a lion, yet perhaps I could bite your net a little."
Agapit straightened himself, and stepped out rather more boldly as they went to and fro over the grass.
"I seem only like a prattling, silly girl to you," she said, humbly, "yet I have a little sense, and I can write a good hand—a good round hand. I often used to assist Mr. Nimmo in copying passages from books."
Agapit felt like a hero. "Some day, mademoiselle, I may apply to you for assistance. In the meantime, I thank you."
They continued their slow walk to and fro. Sometimes they looked across the river to the village, but mostly they looked at each other, and Agapit, with acute pleasure, basked in the light of Bidiane's admiring glances.