He opened his eyes and bent a little nearer. "Do you mean, mademoiselle----"
"I mean only," she said gently, "that if you express to him the views on the Crocans which you have just expressed to me, your opportunities of seeing my brother will be scant."
He laughed. "I have not opened them to him," he said. "I have seen him, and whether he thinks that he was a little more exigent last night than the danger required, or he desires to prove to me that midnight alarms are not the rule at Villeneuve, he has not given me notice to go. His invitation to remain is not, perhaps," he smiled slightly, "of the warmest. But if you, mademoiselle, will second it----"
She muttered--not without a blush--that it would give her pleasure. And he proceeded, "Then no difficulty on that point will arise."
She stooped lower over her work. What was she to do? He wanted that which she had decided she must not give him. Just that! What was she to do?
She was so long in answering, that he dubbed her awkward and mannerless. And thought it a pity, too; for she was a staunch sister, and had shown herself resourceful; and in repose her face, though brown and sunburnt, was not without grace. He came to the point. "May I count on you for this?" he asked bluntly.
"For--what?"
"That as soon as you can you will bring me face to face with your brother?"
She looked up and met his gaze. "As soon as I think it safe to do so," she said, "I will. You may depend on me."
He had not divined her doubt, nor did he discern her quibble. Still, "Could I not go to him to-day?" he said. "If he is still in the neighbourhood?"