And Rosa, after having returned to her room, repeated in her solitude the reading lessons, but, at the same time, recalled all the delight which she had felt whilst receiving them.
One evening she came half an hour later than usual. This was too extraordinary an incident not to call forth, at once, Cornelius’ inquiries after its cause.
“Oh! do not be angry with me,” she said, “it is not my fault. My father has renewed an acquaintance with an old crony who used to visit him at the Hague, and to ask him to let him see the prison. He is a good sort of fellow, fond of his bottle, tells funny stories, and, moreover, is very free with his money, so as always to be ready to stand a treat.”
“You don’t know anything further of him?” asked Cornelius, surprised.
“No,” she answered, “it’s only for about a fortnight that my father has taken such a fancy to this friend who is so assiduous in visiting him.”
“Ah, so,” said Cornelius, shaking his head uneasily, as every new incident seemed to him to forebode some catastrophe, “very likely some spy, one of those who are sent into jails to watch both prisoners and their keepers.”
“I don’t believe that,” said Rosa, smiling, “if that worthy person is spying after any one, it is certainly not after my father.”
“After whom, then?”
“Me, for instance.”
“You?”
“Why not?” said Rosa, smiling.
“Ah, that's true,” Cornelius observed with a sigh.
“You will not always have suitors in vain, this man may become your husband.”
“I don't say anything to the contrary.”
