Even the jovial mood of her good-hearted foster-father was not proof against this passionate outburst of long-suppressed feeling. He had always regarded the girl's self-possessed bearing with amazement, and had secretly attributed to her a certain coldness of heart, for she had never given him an insight into the struggles and storms of her young life. And now she sat before him like a child that has given way to its grief, deaf, apparently, to all comforting words and caresses.
"You will bring things to such a pass," he cried, in ludicrous desperation, "that I shall be forced to take up my old trade, and go out lion-hunting again in my old age. Upon my word it's less wearing work than having anything to do with a pair of estranged lovers, who will neither come together nor yet separate entirely. The thing worked passably as long as you were able to face it out. After all, although I always looked upon it as a piece of foolishness for you to give such a lover his dismissal, just because he didn't want to kiss the slipper before his marriage: still, I supposed you must know what you were about, and it was impossible for me to supply a mother's place toward you, and explain how we men ought to be managed. At all events, things ran smoothly, and we went on living peacefully together. But now, when the ice suddenly breaks and you lose all control over yourself--tell me, what in the world am I to do? My experience with wild animals has made me something of a savage; but I instantly become the most cowardly and chicken-hearted of domestic animals if a woman--and particularly one I care so much for--begins to cry in my presence."
She suddenly drew herself up, shook back her curls and passed her hand across her eyes.
"You shall not have to complain of it again, uncle," she said, in a determined tone; "most assuredly, never again. You are right; it is foolish to cry about something that was all over long ago. You will never, never see me do it again."
"My brave girl!" he said, embracing her and kissing her wet cheek, a liberty he very seldom ventured to take. "I am glad you still care a little for your old uncle. But now, go to bed, for it has grown so late--"
"To bed!--in this terrible state of anxiety? What are you thinking of, uncle? Will it be possible for you to sleep?"
"Why not, you little goose? Ay, the sleep of the righteous, for I have done my duty to-day, and have shown how our race can shoot--"
"And you can deep before you know how he is?--and what the doctor has said? I should have sent over to inquire before this, but the people of the house are all asleep, and my maid Louisa is a stranger here and would not be able to find the place."
"And you think I myself--well, I must confess!--at one o'clock at night, tired to death by all my laurels--"
"Uncle, unless you want to see me die of anxiety--"