A Woman's Will Part 21

Rosina twisted uneasily in bed.

"I don't see what to do," she murmured.

Molly was getting into her clothes with a rapidity little short of marvellous.

"I'll be curious to see what you _do_ do," she said, sticking pins recklessly into herself here and there, while she settled all nice points with a jerk. "It's ten o'clock," she added, with a glance towards the chimney-piece, "you'd better be arising, for I presume he is coming this morning?"

Rosina smiled delightfully.

"You heard him say so last night, didn't you?"

"Perhaps; somehow the remark didn't make an impression on me, if I did."

"I'll get up directly you go. And oh, Molly, do tell me just once more before you leave me that you think he's--"

Molly slashed the end of her four-in-hand through the loop and drew up the knot with a single pull; then she approached the bed and leaned over the face upon the pillow.

"I think he's desperately in love," she said, "and I've no blame for him if he is."

"But do you really think that he is?"

"Well, of course one can never be sure with foreigners."

"_Molly!_"

"'Tis a fact, my dear. But then you know one can never be sure with one's self either, so there you are."

Rosina laughed ringingly. Then they kissed one another and Molly departed.

Then came work for Ottillie, and her mistress was hardly completed as to embroidered batiste and black moire ribbon, when the large and remarkable card with which the more distinguished portion of European masculinity announce their presence was brought to the room by one of the hotel _garcons_.

He awaited her in the salon below, and when she appeared there to him, such an expression dawned within his eyes as altered completely not only their habitual melancholy, but the customary shadows of his whole face as well. There is no flattery so subtle in its charm or so deeply touching in its homage as such a change, and Rosina felt as much complimented as any other woman would have been, had it been in her to work so great a miracle in so great, and such, a man.

"_Vous allez bien?_" he asked eagerly, as he came quickly forward to bow over her hand.

"Yes, very well;" and then, because she always became nervous directly she lived beneath his steady look, she plunged wildly into the subject uppermost in her mind. "And I ought to feel very well, because in all probability I must travel again to-day."

"You leave Zurich already so soon?" he asked, and his voice betrayed neither surprise nor even interest.

"Yes," she answered, "we are all going to Constance this afternoon."

"You have change your plans?" he inquired; "yes?"

She looked up quickly at the much-objected-to word, and he received the little glance with a shrug of apology and a smile.

"Madame la Princesse wishes to go on," said Rosina, "and mademoiselle thought that I would be so lonely without her that I--"

"You would have wished to stay, _n'est-ce pas_?" he asked, interrupting her.

"I don't like to travel two days in succession."

"I would beg you to stay," he said, looking at his gloved hands, "but I also go to-day."

She felt her heart jump suddenly; Molly's prediction a.s.saulted her memory with great violence.

"Yes," he went on, "it happens oddly that my plans are also suddenly changed. It is to say good-bye that I am come."

Ah, then he was not going to Constance.

"I am called to Leipsic by a telegram."

"No one is ill, I hope?"

"No, fortunately," he replied pleasantly; "but in Leipsic I am much interested."

Rosina felt a sudden shock, not the less disagreeable because it was so undefined, but she pulled herself together at once and promptly swallowed it whole.

"I do hope that you will have a pleasant journey," she said cordially.

He was staring steadily at her.

"Shall we meet again?" he said at last.

"Very likely."

"And your address?"

"You have it."

"Ah, yes, truly."

Then he stood up.

"I go at one, and I have ordered to eat at twelve. I must therefore leave you this shortly. You will make my adieux to your charming friend, _n'est-ce pas_?"

"I am so glad that you came to Zurich and met her," she said, rising also and lifting her eyes to his.

He was looking so indifferent that she felt for the instant both puzzled and hurt, and was angry at herself for ever having blushed on his account. Then she recollected the telegram from Leipsic and drew herself up well.

"Is it only because that I have the pleasure to meet mademoiselle that you are glad I come?" he asked, holding out his hand.

She nodded, smiling, but ignoring the hand.

"In Lucerne you gave me your hand in good-bye," he said presently.

She offered her fingers with a frankness unequalled.