AFTER DARK [82]
"You forget the suddenness of the journey to Paris," said Trudaine. "How are we to account for it without the risk of awakening my sister's suspicions?"
"Trust that to me," answered Lomaque. "Let us return to the cottage at once. No, not you," he added, suddenly, as they turned to retrace their steps. "There is that in your face which would betray us. Leave me to go back alone--I will say that you have gone to give some orders at the inn. Let us separate immediately. You will recover your self-possession--you will get to look yourself again sooner--if you are left alone. I know enough of you to know that. We will not waste another minute in explanations; even minutes are precious to us on such a day as this. By the time you are fit to meet your sister again, I shall have had time to say all I wish to her, and shall be waiting at the cottage to tell you the result."
He looked at Trudaine, and his eyes seemed to brighten again with something of the old energy and sudden decision of the days when he was a man in office under the Reign of Terror. "Leave it to me," he said; and, waving his hand, turned away quickly in the direction of the cottage.
Nearly an hour passed before Trudaine ventured to follow him. When he at length entered the path which led to the garden gate, he saw his sister waiting at the cottage door. Her face looked unusually animated; and she ran forward a step or two to meet him.
"Oh, Louis!" she said, "I have a confession to make, and I must beg you to hear it patiently to the end. You must know that our good Lomaque, though he came in tired from his walk, occupied himself the first thing, at my request, in writing the letter which is to secure to us our dear old home by the banks of the Seine. When he had done, he looked at me, and said, 'I should like to be present at your happy return to the house where I first saw you.' 'Oh, come, come with us!' I said directly. 'I am not an independent man,' he answered; 'I have a margin of time allowed me at Paris, certainly, but it is not long--if I were only my own master--' and then he stopped. Louis, I remembered all we owed to him; I remembered that there was no sacrifice we ought not to be too glad to make for his sake; I felt the kindness of the wish he had expressed; and perhaps I was a little influenced by my own impatience to see once more my flower-garden and the rooms where we used to be so happy. So I said to him, 'I am sure Louis will agree with me that our time is yours, and that we shall be only too glad to advance our departure so as to make traveling leisure enough for you to come with us to Rouen. We should be worse than ungrateful--' He stopped me. 'You have always been good to me,' he said. 'I must not impose on your kindness now. No, no, you have formalities to settle before you can leave this place.' 'Not one,' I said--for we have not, as you know, Louis? 'Why, here is your furniture to begin with,' he said. 'A few chairs and tables hired from the inn,' I answered; 'we have only to give the landlady our key, to leave a letter for the owner of the cottage, and then--' He laughed. 'Why, to hear you talk, one would think you were as ready to travel as I am!' 'So we are,' I said, 'quite as ready, living in the way we do here.' He shook his head; but you will not shake yours, Louis, I am sure, now you have heard all my long story? You can't blame me can you?"
Before Trudaine could answer, Lomaque looked out of the cottage window.
"I have just been telling my brother every thing," said Rose, turning round toward him.
"And what does he say?" asked Lomaque.
"He says what I say," replied Rose, answering for her brother; "that our time is your time--the time of our best and dearest friend."
"Shall it be done, then?" asked Lomaque, with a meaning look at Trudaine.
Rose glanced anxiously at her brother; his face was much graver than she had expected to see it, but his answer relieved her from all suspense.
"You are quite right, love, to speak as you did," he said, gently. Then, turning to Lomaque, he added, in a firmer