Cecil bent more closely over her drawing.
"What are you doing?" said Bertie, impatiently. "I can't see your face. Come and sit by me, Cecil. I like a 'gentle hand in mine.'"
Cecil moved as if in a dream, and sat in a low chair near his couch.
"You have always been so kind and true to me," stroking her hair caressingly.
A slight movement of the handle of the door made them involuntarily separate, and Mrs. Rolleston entered.
"Cecil, your father is looking for you. He wants you to drive with him, and call on the Learmonths."
"What an infernal bore!" said Du Meresq, energetically; "and I must lie in this confounded room, with nothing to do the whole afternoon. Can't you get out of it, Cecil?"
"No, no!" said Mrs. Rolleston, hastily meeting her daughter's eye. There was unspoken sympathy between them. Her half eager look of inquiry passed into intelligent acquiescence, and, with a regretful glance at Bertie, she left the room.
The next day and the one after the Colonel required his daughter's companionship; the third day, they all went out in the afternoon, as Du Meresq seemed better, and said he had letters to write. No sooner, however, was the house quiet and deserted, than he rang the bell, and sent for a sleigh, hobbling out with the assistance of a stick and the servant's arm. For the information of that lingering and curious functionary, he ordered the driver to go to the Club, which address, however, was altered after proceeding a short distance.