“Thanks,” he returned; “let us all sit; we can chat a few moments more comfortably so,” and he gladly sank into the rocker, still feeling as if the floor was slipping from under him.
Rupert drew another chair for Virgie, and then went to get a glass of water for his guardian, for his pallor alarmed him greatly.
But he was soon entirely himself again, making light of his sudden attack, and they sat and talked some time about the curiosities around them.
But the baronet watched every movement of the fair young stranger with an eager, wistful eye. Her grace charmed him more and more; even the tones of her voice thrilled him with a painfully sweet sensation, and whenever she addressed him the tears would almost start into his eyes.
“Are you a stranger in London?” he asked, after a little pause in their conversation.
“Yes, sir; but I have not been allowed to remember the fact since coming here—everyone is so kind,” she said, smiling.
“Where is your home?” he inquired.
“In New York city, on the other side of the Atlantic.”
“Indeed! Then you have come hither recently?”
“It is scarcely three weeks since my arrival in London,” Virgie returned.