this temporary thought, and made him see to what a horrible life of
suspense he should condemn a human creature, and live a perpetual lie,
and be always at the edge of some pitfall or other.

One day, while he sat looking at her, with all these thoughts, and many
more, coursing through his mind, she looked up at him, and surprised
him. "Ah!" said she gravely.

"What is the matter, my dear?"

"Oh, nothing," said she cunningly.

"Uncle, dear," said she presently, "when do we go to Herne Bay?"

Now, Dr. Philip had given that up. He had got the servants at Kent Villa
on his side, and he felt safer here than in any strange place: so he
said, "I don't know: that all depends. There is plenty of time."

"No, uncle," said Rosa gravely. "I wish to leave this house. I can
hardly breathe in it."

"What! your native air?"

"Mystery is not my native air; and this house is full of mystery. Voices
whisper at my door, and the people don't come in. The maids cast strange
looks at me, and hurry away. I scolded that pert girl Jane, and she
answered me as meek as Moses. I catch you looking at me, with love, and
something else. What is that something--? It is Pity: that is what it
is. Do you think, because I am called a simpleton, that I have no eyes,
nor ears, nor sense? What is this secret which you are all hiding from