"You say nothing, Rose," said her lover. "Mon Dieu! you cannot surely love me less!"
"Hush!" said Rose, rather sharply, "they will hear you. It isn't that, but—but I don't want to be married just yet. I am too young."
"You did not think so at Ottawa."
"Well," said Rose, testily; "I think so now, and that is enough. I can't get married yet; at least not before July."
"I am satisfied to wait until July," said La Touche, smiling. "No doubt, you will feel older and wiser by that time."
"Does your father know?" asked Rose.
"Yes, I told him before I left home. They are all delighted. My mother and sisters send endless love."
Rose remained silent for a moment, thoughtfully twisting her bracelet. She liked wealth, but she liked Reginald Stanford better than all the wealth in the world. Jules La Touche, with forty thousand pounds, was not to be lightly thrown over; but she was ready at any moment to throw him over for the comparatively poor Englishman. She had no wish to offend her lover. Should her dearer hopes fail, he would be a most desirable party.
"What is the matter with you, Rose?" demanded Jules, uneasily. "You are changed. You are not what you were in Ottawa. Even your letters of late are not what they used to be. Why is it? What have I done?"
"You foolish fellow," said Rose, smiling, "nothing! I am not changed. You only fancy it."