satisfied with merely looking; she gently passed over the characters the tips of her fingers, accompanying the action with an unconscious but tender smile, which converted the touch into a caress. Paulina loved the past; but the peculiarity of this little scene was that she said nothing. She could feel without pouring out her feelings in a flux of words.
She now occupied herself at the bookcase for nearly an hour, taking down volume after volume, and renewing her acquaintance with each. This done, she seated herself on a low stool, rested her cheek on her hand, and thought, and still was mute.
The sound of the front door opened below, a rush of cold wind, and her father’s voice speaking to Mrs. Bretton in the hall startled her at last. She sprang up. She was downstairs in one second.
“Papa! papa! you are not going out?”
“My pet, I must go into town.”
“But it is too—too cold, papa.”
And then I heard M. de Bassompierre showing to her how he was well provided against the weather; and how he was going to have the carriage, and to be quite snugly sheltered; and, in short, proving that she need not fear for his comfort.
“But you will promise to come back here this evening, before it is quite dark—you and Dr. Bretton, both, in the carriage? It is not fit to ride.”
“Well, if I see the doctor, I will tell him a lady has laid on him her commands to take care of his precious health and come home early under my escort.”
“Yes, you must say a lady; and he will think it is his mother, and be obedient. And, papa, mind to come soon, for I shall watch and listen.”
The door closed, and the carriage rolled softly through the snow; and back returned the countess, pensive and anxious.
She did listen and watch when evening closed; but it was in stillest sort, walking the drawing-room with quite noiseless step. She checked at intervals her velvet march, inclined her ear, and consulted the night sounds—I should rather say the night silence, for now at last the wind was fallen. The sky, relieved of its avalanche, lay naked and pale. Through the barren boughs of the avenue we could see it well, and note also the polar splendour of the new-year moon—an orb white as a world of ice. Nor was it late when we saw also the return of the carriage.
Paulina had no dance of welcome for this evening. It was with a sort of gravity that she took immediate possession of her father as he entered the room; but she at once made him her entire property, led him to the seat of her choice, and, while softly showering round him honeyed words of commendation for being so good and coming home so soon, you would have thought it was entirely by the power of her little hands he was put into his chair, and settled and arranged; for the strong man seemed to take pleasure in wholly yielding himself to this dominion, potent only by love.
Graham did not appear till some minutes after the count. Paulina half turned when his step was heard. They spoke, but only a word or two. Their fingers met a moment, but obviously with slight contact. Paulina remained beside her father; Graham threw himself into a seat on the other side of the room.
It was well that Mrs. Bretton and Mr. Home had a great deal to say to each other—almost an inexhaustible fund of discourse in old recollections; otherwise, I think, our party would have been but a still one that evening.