As he walked towards the house—with the design of going round it to get upon the front avenue—his glance was directed upwards to the window where that beautiful face had been just seen. The lattice was now closed; and he endeavoured to pierce the sombre shadows behind it. The face was no longer there. No eyes met his.
He glanced back towards the kiosk to see if he might linger a moment. His uncle was in a bent attitude, gathering the scattered pieces of gold. In this position the shrubbery concealed him.
Herbert was about to glide nearer to the window, and summon his cousin by name, when he heard his own pronounced, in a soft whisper, and with the endearing prefix “cousin.”
Distinctly he heard “Cousin Herbert!” and as if spoken around the angle of the building.
He hastened thither: for that was his proper path by which to arrive at the front of the house.
On turning the wall, he looked up. He saw that another window opened from the same chamber. Thence came the sweet summons, and there appeared the fair face for which he was searching.
“Oh, cousin Herbert! do not go in anger! Papa has done wrong—very wrong, I know; but he has been taking much wine—he is not—Good cousin, you will pardon him?”
Herbert was about to make reply, when the young Creole continued:—
“You said in your letter you had no money. You have refused father’s—you will not refuse mine? It is very little. It is all I have. Take it!”
A bright object glistened before his eyes, and fell with a metallic chink at his feet. He looked down. A small silk purse containing coin, with a blue ribbon attached, was seen lying upon the ground.