"Ah, how she loves him--how dearly she loves him!" thought her
brother, watching her from his solitary corner of the room, and
seeing the smile that brightened her blushing face when Danville
kissed her hand at parting.
Lomaque, who had remained imperturbably cool during the outbreak
of the old lady's anger--Lomaque, whose observant eyes had
watched sarcastically the effect of the scene between mother and
son on Trudaine and his sister, was the last to take leave. After
he had bowed to Rose with a certain gentleness in his manner,
which contrasted strangely with his wrinkled, haggard face, he
held out his hand to her brother "I did not take your hand when
we sat together on the bench," he said; "may I take it now?"
Trudaine met his advance courteously, but in silence. "You may
alter your opinion of me one of these days." Adding those words
in a whisper, Monsieur Lomaque bowed once more to the bride and
went out.
For a few minutes after the door had closed the brother and
sister kept silence. "Our last night together at home!" That was
the thought which now filled the heart of each. Rose was the
first to speak. Hesitating a little as she approached her
brother, she said to him, anxiously:
"I am sorry for what happened with Madame Danville, Louis. Does
it make you think the worse of Charles?"
"I can make allowance for Madame Danville's anger," returned
Trudaine, evasively, "because she spoke from honest conviction.
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