Béthune had said truly that to gather the rosebud is the act of an instant, but what power in heaven or on earth shall put the rosebud, once broken off, back again upon the mother plant? If by any force of will or of wealth they were to buy back her island again for her, it would never be possible to give her back with the solid soil, and the old house-roof, and the fruitful trees of it, the old, sweet, happy ignorance and peace of her childhood there.
'She is not here?' she asked suddenly, as she roused herself from her dream of her old home.
'My wife?' he asked in some surprise. 'No; she is in Russia.'
'She will despise me,' said Damaris, a dull red glow of shame mounting over her forehead. 'Will you tell her that I was found in the streets?'
'Not if it pain you. But you mistake if you think——'
'I should hate her to know it,' said the girl under her breath. 'I wanted to become something very great; something that she would hear of and come to see; and then I should have said to her: "Yes, it is I, madame, and you will not laugh at me any more now."'
'She never laughed at you. She admired you, and predicted a great future for you,' said Othmar with a little embarrassment, not knowing very well how to speak of one so near to him to this child, whose memory was so tenacious alike of benefits and affronts.
'Is this house hers?' asked Damaris.
'Surely, my dear: what is mine is hers.'
Her face darkened.