earch, lit
those eyes! But you know that passion means suffering, and, tracing it
in the original through its roots, you come to pathos, and still
farther, to lamentation, I've heard. But he was not looking down at her,
only out and away, paler than ever in the blue light, sad and resolved.
I ordered candles.

"Sing to me, Louise," said Rose, at length. "It is two years since I
heard you."

"Sing 'What's a' the steer, kimmer,'" I said. But instead, she gave the
little ballad, 'And bring my love again, for he lies among the moors.'

Rose went and leaned over the pianoforte while she sang, bending and
commanding her eyes. He seemed to wish to put himself where he was
before he ever left her, to awaken everything lovely in her, to bring
her before him as utterly developed as she might be,--not only to afford
her, but to force upon her every chance to master him. He seemed to wish
to love, I thought.

"Thank you," he said, as she ceased. "Did you choose it purposely,
Louise?"

Lu sang very nicely, and, though I dare say she would rather not then,
when Mr. Dudley asked for the "Vale of Avoca" and the "Margin of
Zuerich's Fair Waters," she gave them just as kindly. Altogether, quite a
damp programme. Then papa came in, bright and blithe, whirled me round
in a _pas de deux_, and we all very gay and hilarious slipped into the
second of May.

Dear me! how time goes! I must hurry.--After that, _I_ didn't see so
much of Rose; but he met Lu everywhere, came in when I was out, and, if
I returned, he went, perfectly regardless of my existence, it seemed.
They rode, too, all round the country; and she sat to him, though he
never filled out the sketch. For weeks he was devoted; but I fancied,
when I saw them, that there lingered in his manner the same thing as on
the first evening while she sang to him. Lu was so gay and sweet and
happy that I hardly knew her; she was always very gentle, but such a
decided body,--that's the Willoughby, her mother. Yet during these weeks
Rose had not spoken, not formally; delicate and friendly kindness was
all Lu could have found, had she sought. One night, I remember, he came
in and wanted us to go out and row with him on the river. Lu wouldn't go
without me.

"Will you come?" said he, coolly, as if I were merely necessary as a
thwart or thole-pin might have been, turning and letting his eyes fall
on me an instant, then snatching them off with a sparkle and flush, and
such a lordly carelessne