"Perhaps." He paused and regarded the young girl fixedly. "Does
Mademoiselle think so?"
"I don't know," said Rosey. "How should I?"
"Ah! if Mademoiselle thought so--if Mademoiselle would deign"--He
stopped again and placed his hand upon his forehead. "It might be so!"
he muttered.
"I must go now," said Rosey hurriedly, rising with an awkward sense of
constraint. "Father will wonder where I am."
"I shall explain. I will accompany you, Mademoiselle."
"No, no," said Rosey, quickly; "he must not know I have been here!" She
stopped. The honest blush flew to her cheek, and then returned again,
because she had blushed.
De Ferrieres gazed at her with an exalted look. Then drawing himself to
his full height, he said, with an exaggerated and indescribable
gesture, "Go, my child, go. Tell your father that you have been alone
and unprotected in the abode of poverty and suffering, but--that it was
in the presence of Armand de Ferrieres."
He threw open the door with a bow that nearly swept the ground, but did
not again offer to take her hand.
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