"Is he dead?"
"No, Sir."
Mr. Rossitur put her away, and got up and walked, or strode up and down the little apartment. Fleda dared not look at him, even by the faint glimmer that came from the chimney.
But abroad it was perfectly dark the stars were shining, the only lamps that illumined the poor little street, and for a long time there had been no light in the room but that of the tiny wood fire. Dinah never could be persuaded of the superior cheapness of coal. Fleda came at last to her uncle's side, and putting her arm within his, said
"How soon will you set off for home, uncle Rolf?"
"To-morrow morning."
"You must take the boat to Bridgeport now you know the river is fast."
"Yes, I know."
"Then I will meet you at the wharf, uncle Rolf at what o'clock?"
"My dear child," said he, stopping and passing his hand tenderly over her cheek, "are you fit for it to-morrow? You had better stay where you are quietly for a few days you want rest."