"Why, Tamsin, I niver knawed 'ee i' this mood afore," stammered Paul.
"I assure you," interposed Mr. Fogo, "that I value your hospitality
more than I can say, and shall not forget it. But it would be absurd
to accept it when I am so near home. If one of you would consent to
row me down to Kit's House, it would be the exact kindness I should
prefer."
The Twins assented, though not without regret at his refusal to
accept more. Paul agreed to row him down, and the two started in the
early twilight. As he shook Peter's hand, Mr. Fogo looked at Tamsin.
"Good-night," he said.
"Good-night, sir."
She did not offer to shake hands; she scarcely even looked up, but
stood there before the chimney-place, with the fire-light outlining
her form and throwing into deep shadow the side of her face that was
towards him. One arm was thrown up to grasp the mantelshelf, and
against this her head rested. The other hung listlessly at her side.
And this was the picture Mr. Fogo carried out into the grey evening.
As the door closed upon him, Peter sank into the stiff-backed chair
beside the hearth with a puzzled sigh.
"Why, Tamsin," he said, as he slowly drew out his pipe and filled it,
"what ailed 'ee, girl, to behave like that?"
Looking up, he saw a tear, and then a second, drop brightly on the
hearth-stone.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182