Mr. Loseby’s room was apt to look dusty in the summer, though it was in fact kept in admirable order. But the Turkey carpet was very old, and penetrated by the sweeping of generations, and the fireplace always had a tinge of ashes about it. To-day the windows were open, the Venetian blinds down, and there was a sort of green dimness in the room, in which Rose, dazzled by the sunshine out of doors, could for the moment distinguish nothing. She was startled by Mr. Loseby’s exclamation of her name. She thought for the moment that he had found her out internally as well as externally, and surprised her secret as well as herself. ‘Why, little Rose!’ he said. He was sitting in a coat made of yellow Indian grass-silk which did not accord so well as his usual shining blackness with the glistening of his little round bald head, and his eyes and spectacles. His table was covered with papers done up in bundles with all kinds of red tape and bands. ‘This is a sight for sore eyes,’ he said. ‘You are like summer itself stepping into an old man’s dusty den; come and sit near me and let me look at you, my summer Rose! I don’t know which is the freshest and the prettiest!’ said the old lawyer, waving his hand towards a beautiful luxurious blossom of ‘La France’ which was on his table in a Venetian glass. He had a fancy for pretty things.
‘Oh, I was passing, and I thought I would come in—and see you,’ Rose said.
Mr. Loseby had taken her appearance very quietly, as a matter of course; but when she began to explain he was startled. He pushed his spectacles up upon his forehead and looked at her curiously. ‘Ah!’ he said, ‘that was kind of you—to come with no other object than to see an old man.’
‘Oh!’ cried Rose, confused, ‘I did not say I had no other object, Mr. Loseby. I want you to tell me—is—is—Anne likely to settle upon the Dower-house? I do so want to know.’
‘My dear child, your mother has as much to do with it as Anne has. You will hear from her better than from me.’
‘To be sure, that is true,’ said Rose; and then, after a pause, ‘Oh, Mr. Loseby, is it really, really true that Cosmo Douglas is not going to marry Anne? isn’t it shameful? to bring her into such trouble and then to forsake her. Couldn’t he be made to marry her? I think it is a horrid shame that a man should behave like that and get no punishment at all.’
Mr. Loseby pushed his spectacles higher and higher; he peered at her through the partial light with a very close scrutiny. Then he rose and half drew up one of the blinds. But even this did not satisfy him. ‘Do you think then,’ he said at last, ‘that it would be a punishment to a man to marry Anne?’
‘It would depend upon what his feelings were,’ said Rose with much force of reason; ‘if he wanted, for example, to marry—somebody else.’
‘Say Rose—instead of Anne,’ said the acute old lawyer, with a grin which was very much like a grimace.
‘I am sure I never said that!’ cried Rose. ‘I never, never said it, nor so much as hinted at it. He may say what he pleases, but I never, never said it! you always thought the worst of me, Mr. Loseby, Anne was always your favourite; but you need not be unjust. Haven’t I come here expressly to ask you? Couldn’t he be made to marry her? Why, they were engaged! everybody has talked of them as engaged. And if it is broken off, think how awkward for Anne.’