Nor had the Colonel any anxieties in leaving the representatives of the three nations together while he went to attend his brother’s wedding.  He proposed that Tibbie should conduct Rose for the daily walk of which he had made a great point, thinking that the child did not get exercise enough, since she was so averse to going alone upon the esplanade that her aunt forbore to press it.  She manifested the same reluctance to going out with Tibbie, and this the Colonel ascribed to her fancying herself too old to be under the charge of a nurse.  It was trying to laugh her out of her dignity, but without eliciting an answer, when, one afternoon just as they were entering together upon the esplanade, he felt her hand tighten upon his own with a nervous frightened clutch, as she pressed tremulously to his side.

“What is it, my dear?  That dog is not barking at you.  He only wants to have a stick thrown into the sea for him.”

“Oh not the dog!  It was—­”

“Was, what?”

“Him!” gasped Rose.

“Who?” inquired the Colonel, far from prepared for the reply, in a terrified whisper,—­

“Mr. Maddox.”

“My dear child!  Which, where?”

“He is gone! he is past.  Oh, don’t turn back!  Don’t let me see him again.”

“You don’t suppose he could hurt you, my dear.”

“No,” hesitated Rose, “not with you.”

“Nor with any one.”

“I suppose not,” said Rose, common sense reviving, though her grasp was not relaxed.

“Would it distress you very much to try to point him out to me?” said the Colonel, in his irresistibly sweet tone.

“I will.  Only keep hold of my hand, pray,” and the little hand trembled so much that he felt himself committing a cruel action in leading her along the esplanade, but there was no fresh start of recognition, and when they had gone the whole length, she breathed more freely, and said, “No, he was not there.”

Recollecting how young she had been at the time of Maddox’s treason, the Colonel began to doubt if her imagination had not raised a bugbear, and he questioned her, “My dear, why are you so much afraid, of this person?  What do you know about him?”

“He told wicked stories of my papa,” said Rose, very low.

“True, but he could not hurt you.  You don’t think he goes about like Red Ridinghood’s wolf?”

“No, I am not so silly now.”

“Are you sure you know him?  Did you often see him in your papa’s house?”

“No, he was always in the laboratory, and I might not go there.”

“Then you see, Rose, it must be mere fancy that you saw him, for you could not even know him by sight.”

“It was not fancy,” said Rose, gentle and timid as ever, but still obviously injured at the tone of reproof.

“My dear child,” said Colonel Keith, with some exertion of patience, “you must try to be reasonable.  How can you possibly recognise a man that you tell me you never saw?”