Fleda hesitated.
"I don't know--I don't know whether she knows--"
"Is he dead?"
"No sir--"
Mr. Rossitur put her away and got up and walked, or strode, up and down, 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----"