“Show me the way to serve you and your sister, Beelo,” I said. “I alone, or Christopher and I together, will obey any instructions from you; we will do whatever you say, go wherever you direct,—cut ourselves off from every protection except yours. Isn’t our trust complete?”
“Yes, Yoseph—Choseph,” he banteringly answered. Then, in a flash, “I mean Mr. Tudor.”
“Joseph—to you,” I returned.
He put his mouth through contortions over the F, and finally, with a restful gasp, blurted out:
“Choseph!”
His gentleness overwhelmed me, and I, being naturally affectionate, and timid only with women, forgot my feeling of constraint toward him, and caught him in my arms. But he did not have for me the pressure and the laughter that he had given Christopher. On the contrary, he resisted and then sprang away.
I wondered what thoughts were perplexing him as he stood off, regarding me in his odd little quizzical fashion, and was astounded when he said:
“Lentala says that Annabel is beautiful and lovely.” I could not imagine what had suggested Annabel to him at this particular moment, but I hastily agreed. He seemed not altogether pleased, but went on:
“You like her very much?”
“Yes; very much indeed.”