It was now early evening, and Rose gave vent to a
little uncontrollable sigh. Mrs. Dunlop came as quickly to the bedside
as though the sigh had been the sound of a trumpet. She was a very
pleasant object for weary invalid eyes to rest upon. Her dark hair was
satin-smooth, her voice and movements were quiet and refined. There
was in her face that mingling of shyness and sincerity, irradiated by
a look of the keenest intelligence, which reminded Rose of Allan,
between whom and his mother there was a strong resemblance.
"I have something to tell you," she said gently. "As my prisoner you
have behaved in such an exemplary manner, keeping all the rules of the
institution, and making no attempt to run away, that I have decided to
give you the freedom of another room."
"Oh, am I to go into another room?" Had a voyage to Europe been
proposed to her it could scarcely have suggested pleasanter ideas of
change. "A new wall-paper, and a new window! What more could I ask
for? But how am I to get there? What means of transportation have
you?"
"That is just what I am thinking of. I could dress you in my gray
wrapper, and then--would you mind if Allan were to help me to lift you
to the couch in my room?"
Rose shuddered a little.
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