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Harold is crowded about with ministrants. Nobody can leave him for a minute. Rosalie's father appears. Everybody leaves Harold simultaneously, abruptly, and as if by magic. Rosalie's father appears. Everybody disappears. Wonderful father! Everybody melts away: but Harold does not melt away. Courageous Harold!
"If I could only understand!" this was Rosalie's constant cry in these weeks wherein she lay ill and prostrate after her father's burial. Once and once only had she met Charley alone, though she knew that he was keeping watch over her. She had first seen him the day her father was buried, standing apart from the people, his face sorrowful, his eyes heavy, his figure bowed.
'Then He is going after you, said Rosalie's mother again. Jessie walked to the door of the caravan, and sat looking out without speaking. The sunlight was streaming on the purple heather, which was spread like a carpet on both sides of the road. Quiet little roadside springs trickled through the moss and ran across the path.
She remembered perfectly every gesture, every look, every word of her husband as he stood beside the maid, and now she could see in his movements the same ennui, the same indifference for her suffering as he had felt for Rosalie's; it was the selfish carelessness of a man whom the idea of paternity irritates.
"Don't mention it, old chap. I rather enjoy it. It's been uncommonly dull up here. I did not get away as soon as I expected, you see. So I am charged with being Rosalie's father, eh? And deserting her? And kidnaping her? By jove, I ought to be hung for all this!" "'Tain't nothin' to laugh at, my friend. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
'Why not, Jessie? said Rosalie's mother; 'why not ask Him? 'Oh, He would have nothing to say to me now, said the girl, sobbing, and hiding her face in her hands. 'If I'd only gone to Him that Sunday! 'What Sunday? asked Rosalie. 'It was the Sunday before I left home. Mrs. Leslie talked to us so beautifully; it was about coming to Jesus.
This voice was drowned by that of another, which, gasping with agony out of a deep sleep, as the body sprang upright, cried: "God-oh God!" Rosalie's hand grasped old Louis' arm too late. The tailor sprang back with a horrible laugh, striking her aside, and rushed out to the landing.
Secretly she took savage delight in treading on the girl's toes or in pinching her arms and legs, twisting her hair, spilling hot coffee on her hands, cursing her softly and perpetrating all sorts of little indignities that could not be resented, for the simple reason that they could not be proved against her. Her word was as good as Rosalie's. Hourly the strain grew worse and worse.
Rosalie immensely im-pressed and Aunt Belle immensely gratified at Rosalie's awe and appreciation and gratitude. A curious manifestation there was of Aunt Belle's attitude in this regard. On that famous visit to the rectory she had treated every one like children.
He now was very close to Rosalie. Rosalie and Harry both were home to lunch next day. In the afternoon they were to take Huggo to Charing Cross to see him off in the saloon specially reserved for his school. All the children were at lunch for this occasion. Benji in a high chair just like the high chair that had been Rosalie's years back what years and years! at the rectory.
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