“Vice in bonds,” growled Jasper, looking moodily at his sister.
“The Vicomte thinks his visit is growing tedious, Mr. Orme,” said Dorothy, “and would be back among his friends. He has now exhausted all the gaieties of Londonderry.”
“If every prison had so fair a jailor,” answered the Vicomte, “I should prefer captivity to freedom, but my jailor prefers to leave me to the society of her kinsman, whose virtues are exalted and whose graces are--what you see.”
Jasper turned his back and walked over to the window where he stood beating with his fingers upon the panes. In a few minutes Orme walked over and joined him.
“There is a matter, Mr. Carew,” he said in a low tone, “on which I would speak with you in private.”
Carew lifted his eyes furtively, and looked at him with a questioning air. He was about to speak but hesitated as if in doubt, and then motioning to Gervase to precede him, followed him into the garden.
“Now, sir,” he said, turning round, “what is the matter of mystery that cannot be spoken before my sister and kinsman? I think you take too much upon you.”
“I shall pass by your discourtesy, for I have come to you in all kindness, as one anxious for your welfare. What I wished to say to you is this, and I will put it briefly. The night airs are dangerous to the health, Mr. Carew, and should be avoided for the future.”
Carew turned pale for a moment, but the moody composure that was natural to him remained. Gervase could see from his eyes that he would have been dangerous had there been a fitting opportunity, but the window was open near them, and De Laprade was watching them where they stood.
“I do not apprehend your meaning, sir; or is this a further instance of your damned impertinence?”